


DEBUGGING

by abraxases, BloodiedCoreOfHope



Category: Prototype (Video Games)
Genre: ADHD, Asexual Character, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Character, Character Death, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Drug Abuse, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, The Mercers Are A Mess, Time Loop, Time Travel, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, add, cursed food, sir this is my emotional support bioweapon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 84,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24445300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abraxases/pseuds/abraxases, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodiedCoreOfHope/pseuds/BloodiedCoreOfHope
Summary: Alex Mercer was willing to die for New York- and he thought he had. That made sense to him, until he woke up in a test tube facing down his creator. Things get strange very quickly from there, especially when he wakes up in a test tube the next day- and the next after that. Something's wrong with time itself, and Alex Mercer is at the center of it all.
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Bradley Ragland, Alex Mercer & Dana Mercer, Alex Mercer & Robert Cross, Blacklight Virus & Alex Mercer
Comments: 40
Kudos: 76





	1. r1

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! welcome to debugging! this is a collab between myself and my good friend, Core! they're hosting it on fanfiction under the same title, while i have it up here on AO3. we have a lot in store, so i hope you enjoy!!

For a moment, the world was silent. The white was everything, and in an instant, he became nothing. He was simply destroyed by the rush of white energy, but somehow… He didn’t stop thinking. Alex rested in the comfortable nothingness for a long moment, dulled confusion streaking across his muted thoughts, then sensation returned to him.

He was trapped within something, simple glass pressing against his formless body. Formless? Why wasn’t he- oh, of course. He survived a nuclear blast and was reduced to nothing more than the shapeless virus that the Contact had revealed him to be. If he had lips, he would grimace.

He should correct that, shouldn’t he. It was odd being without limbs or eyes, or even the familiar stolen face he’d thought was his own. It seemed he had just enough biomass left to reform, so he did so. Tendrils writhed within the prison, until they broke through and left him a squirming puddle on the dirty floor. 

Soon red flesh formed to frame bones, then eyes and organs filled the spaces, then finally he was whole. He rolled his shoulders, twisted his jaw, stretched and closed his hands, marvelling at sensations he’d missed. Then he looked up- to see the perfect mirror of himself. “What the fuck are you.” 

The only difference between Alex and said mirror of a man was attire; rather than the hoodie and leather jacket combination, he donned a lab coat and an expression laced with morbid curiosity. The vial shattering had spurred him to back away, but now, he stood up straight, staring Alex down with a familiar piercing gaze. The gesture lasted only a second, because soon the scientist was right in Alex’s face, unbothered by the fact he was standing less than a foot from the bioweapon he himself had created.

“It completely mimicked my form, right down to speech. A near perfect clone, without any DNA samples to go off of.” He spoke as though Alex wasn’t there at all, in the way one muttered to themself about a chemical reaction in a test tube rather than a person coming out of nowhere. Dr. Mercer’s prying was unyielding, to the extent he grabbed Alex’s chin, trying to turn his head back and forth to better examine him. “A perfect clone, not even nearly perfect. The modifications I did were only slight, but you’ve managed to evolve incredibly, haven’t you? Far beyond anything any of us--”

Alex grabbed the hand gripping his chin with an iron (not bone crushing- yet) grip, shoving it away. Despite his unexpressive face, the way his eyes widened and he backed away from the scientist before him told plenty. “I said- What are you?” 

He hissed out the question, visibly agitated. This person before him- perfectly like Alex Mercer with the addition of a lab coat- was impossible. Alex Mercer was dead, he’d taken the man’s life before he even thought his first thought. Add that to the strange, detached curiosity he was displaying, much like Karen had when he came to her… The young virus was quite wary. A redlight clone of the scientist he was supposed to be, or something else entirely, he didn’t care for the attitude the guy was showing.

Dr. Mercer merely raised a brow as his hand was shoved away, but he stood his ground--and for a moment, a smile seemed to cross his face. His mind was at full speed, analyzing the way the virus moved, “its” reactions, “its” expressions and tone. He tilted his head upward a fraction, huffing a little as he regarded Alex despite the clear, borderline sadistic glint in his eyes.

“Sentience-- it’s acquired fucking sentience.” The scientist shook his head, barely containing himself. The breakthrough of this--what it meant for the whole project. What he had done and not even realized he had done. Again, he moved closer to the virus; but thankfully for both of them, he managed to keep his hands to himself. Instead, he reached over to one of the desks, grabbing a notepad and pen to start scribbling down notes as he spoke. “What am I? Your creator. You’re the Blacklight virus. You’ve copied so well that you’re alive.” 

His… Creator. Alex’s hands dropped to his side, eyes narrowing with contempt. This was Dr. Mercer? The one who was supposed to be Dana’s brother- Dana. Where was she? All thoughts of chasing up how the hell this person was alive again vanished from his head. If he was alive- could he know? Tendrils warped around his wrists, forming the familiar knife like weapons just in case. He spoke in a low growl, “Dana. Where is she.”

The name actually brought Dr. Mercer to pause, but beyond recognition, there wasn’t anything in his face--not caring, not worry. If anything, he seemed intrigued, drumming his fingers against the notebook and tilting his head. 

“Dana? So you’ve gathered some of my memories, as well.” His tone remained cool and calculative, the entire thing akin to discussing equations rather than real people. “What about her? Has she proven to be a good host, from what you’ve seen of her? I wouldn’t mind bringing her here if you’re so interested. You’re probably seeking out fresh cells, anyway...” 

Alex’s face twisted in disgust. This was what Dana had expected him to be. He hated people like this- the marines and blackwatch soldiers he’d consumed always left him reeling, feeling mentally sickened by the taste of their personality. And his creator was such a person. Disgusting. 

He opened his mouth to respond, venom on his tongue- only to close it after realising something. Usually his thoughts came in bundles, mixed memories and concepts providing a unique internal language. This time, however, his thoughts were alone. For the first time since he consumed his first victim, there were no screaming thoughts, no last moments replaying without his prompting. He was… Alone in his head. And he stood before his creator. Two impossible occurrences added on to the fact he was alive… Something was very amiss here.

“I don’t want to consume her, you sick bastard.” He said, eyes flashing with rage, then stepped closer, placing one blade hand tightly on the others shoulder, digging in just enough to draw blood. He stepped closer, equal height doing nothing to diminish the threat dripping from his posture. Alex smiled, and stepped back a little. “If you don’t talk, though…” He gave a small shrug of his shoulders, a far too casual motion for someone threatening murder.

Where the scientist hadn’t reacted much at all to the thought of sacrificing his sister, the blade to his shoulder spurred a half second of panic to flicker across his features. He was a proud man, but by no means was he a dumbass--his life took priority above all else. Even his ever mounting curiosity, because that blade was metal, he could feel it in the way it brushed by his arm. Was this what Dr. Frankenstein had felt, when his monster came to life? That itching curiosity, but self preservation winning over in the end. Dr. Mercer narrowed his eyes, refusing to let even an ounce of fear show on his face. 

“I don’t see how she’d serve you any other purpose, Blacklight.” The scientist would have mimicked the shrug, if not for the blade against his shoulder. “My sister’s in her new apartment. She moved here recently. And as much as I’d like to take you on a damn field trip to see her, you’re not leaving this lab.”

Alex let the blade go from the other’s shoulder, hands returning to normal as he backed up, before moving towards the door. “Thanks for the information, but I am going to find Dana.”

Dr. Mercer let out a quiet sigh of relief as the blade was moved from his shoulder, but still, the virus was intent on leaving. He knew the hazard of letting an incredibly deadly virus literally walk the streets, but… there was that curiosity. What would Blacklight do, once it was out and about? Would it infect all in its path? This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and Dr. Mercer was willing to take a couple bystanders down to investigate. So, setting his notepad aside, he moved to stand behind the virus that had been intent on killing him moments ago.

“You won’t need to “find” her. I’ll take you to her. My shift has been over for thirty minutes--I was doing last minute work.” He spoke calmly but firmly, his expression unreadable but by no means friendly. 

Alex didn’t care for this man at all, but he had something useful. There was no need to consume him just yet, so he wouldn’t. He stepped back from the door, eyeing Dr. Mercer with dark, impatient eyes. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.” He needed to find her safe- needed to know if she had died under Ragland’s care or from the explosion. He had to check on his sister, but he had a feeling he would abuse the information if he let him know why.

______________

If there was any time to sneak an incredibly dangerous virus disguised as yourself out of a lab, it was now. Most of his coworkers had already gone home, and the hood concealing most of the virus’ features made it easy to slip him out of Gentek. It was just after the rush hour, leaving the street empty of its usual suffocating crowd. Maybe a car would have been a better idea, but there was scientific curiosity, then there was locking yourself in a metal cage with something that could wipe you out in an instant. Waving from people who recognized his face--their faces--was answered with little more than a grunt; the scientist’s focus was purely on Blacklight. He’d left his lab coat behind for his coat, making it nigh impossible to tell the two apart. 

Except for the fact Dr. Mercer continued to linger as close to Alex as he could, constantly glancing back at him and analyzing his every movement. If he had the instruments, he would have surely been poking and prodding. 

“Why my face?” He tilted his head, but his eyes never remained on Alex for more than a few seconds; he looked all around them, at every person, at every dark corner that someone could be lurking. He didn’t seem intent on explaining why. “Out of all the faces you’ve seen since you were made, you chose to mimic mine. And my sister is who you immediately want to find. I’m pretty sure you can see why I’m curious.”

Alex was… unsettled by being so exposed, but no one seemed to be screaming about the number one terrorist, merely a few excited whispers about what good twins they were. Which was very strange, considering the reputation he’d brought upon himself. The lack of Hives or Infected, or even soldiers combing the streets, made him very uneasy as well. He was pretty sure Nukes were supposed to kill everything- not just redlight- and they especially didn’t bring dead men back to life.

Dr. Mercer’s seeming ignorance didn’t fit anything he knew of the man. Alex was silent, just walking alongside him while he tried to think of a response. Should he tell it to him straight? Try to make it less strange sounding? For once, he missed the clamour of souls screaming in his head. All he had were the scant few positive interactions he’d had completely as himself to draw upon. 

“You were the first person I consumed. I thought I was you.” He said it plainly, without emotion, but the knitting of his eyebrows betrayed his confusion over the situation. “I’m going to see Dana because she’s…” Nice? Good at thinking? The first person who didn’t try to kill him? “My sister.”

The scientist’s steps came to a brief pause, but he was quick to recover. The first person consumed; the first person ever infected? He pushed down a surge of paranoia, shaking his head at his own ignorance. He was far too careful to get infected. Besides, with how the virus spoke, it was as though it’d been alive for a while. Long enough to believe it was Alex Mercer. Its movements were too fluid for something that just acquired legs, even if it was incredibly adaptable. But he had never seen it in this form, and he was in the lab far more than anyone else. Either it had been careful and only exercised its existence overnight... or someone was tampering with his experiment. His virus. He thought of his investigations into Gentek’s higher-ups, and his chest tightened.

He clenched his fists for a moment, but relaxed with a careful exhale. He knew it. He knew they were tampering with his work, and he had solid proof now. Damn Gentek…

“If you know you aren’t me, why would you call her your sister?” Some of the coldness in his tone had sharpened, laced with the unease and anger he felt towards those he worked for and alongside. “Doesn’t matter, ultimately. You’re lucky I was going to see her anyways, so this isn’t completely out of my way. We’ll continue this conversation once we’re off the streets.” A small shrug. 

Off the streets… Alex looked to the top of the buildings nearby, then shook his head subtly. He didn’t have enough Biomass to waste dragging this bastard around, not unless he consumed a civilian. Which he made a point to avoid doing. Plus, the weird anonymity they had was kind of pleasant. 

He didn’t deign Dr. Mercer with a response, as he turned a corner and saw a familiar apartment complex. He recognised it by the way the windows were arranged, the one with flowery curtains always drawn shut next to the one with mini statues lining the sill. They were a familiar sight to him, as he’d been jumping past them regularly before Dana… Was taken. 

Alex grit his teeth in frustration, and broke into a sprint, running directly through the glass doors and bounding up the stairs. What did her door look like from this side again...? He stalked the length of the hall, breathing deeply. Could he catch that familiar smell of hers here? There were so many smells when he put his mind to it, it made his expression sour.

The scientist was several paces behind--how could it move that fast?!--so it took a few minutes for him to emerge at the stairwell, struggling to keep his rapid breathing subtle as he caught up with Alex. The second he caught his breath, however, he glared daggers at the virus he’d been admiring so intently just moments before. 

“Do you want to see Dana, or do you want your ass dragged back to that fucking lab?!” His tone was low but sharp, and he kept glancing behind himself, as though he expected someone else to come charging up the stairs after them. Dr. Mercer dragged a hand down his face, hissing through his teeth, before returning to his standard calm. “You can’t just do whatever you please, Blacklight. You’re going to get all three of us killed if you don’t get yourself under control, do you understand?”

Alex shrunk back at the harshly whispered reprimands, and glared right back at the paranoid Doctor. “What’s it matter anyway? Blackwatch is only after me.” He realised as he spoke that perhaps he should have waited for the automatic doors, but he just wanted to see Dana, damnit. He shook the glass shards out of his sleeves and picked them out of his chest, staring mulishly at a door instead of continuing speaking. 

Then he blinked, suddenly fully focused on the door. She was behind it. He could tell. Alex flung it wide open, very nearly hitting the Doctor in the face with it, and the light in his eyes came back, small tears beading at the edges. She was alright. Admittedly, she looked quite stunned to see him, and mildly confused. “Dana…” He whispered, unable to form coherent thoughts from how overwhelmed he was. 

Frankly, he expected the virus to continue what he equated to a child pouting for the rest of the time they were here, so the sudden shift in mood spurred a raised brow from him. Not that he got to dwell on it for very long, seeing as he nearly had his nose broken by the apartment door swinging open. He swore under his breath, moving to stand alongside the virus in front of his sister. (Not its sister, his sister.) Dana was predictably bewildered, if… less so than he would have expected. Dr. Mercer crossed his arms, greeting her with far less interest than he did Alex. 

“Alex? And… Alex. What the fuck?” She glanced first at Alex, then Dr. Mercer, blinking a few times in between to make sure she wasn’t just seeing double. No, there were actually two Alexes here. Add that to the pile of weird shit she’s been through over the last who knew how long. Dana stepped away from the door, making a small motion for them to come in despite the obvious confusion on her face. At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if Alex could clone himself, but that didn’t solve the fact she had no idea what the hell was going on. 

Alex rushed in quickly, nearly stumbling over the welcome mat in his haste. He stood in the empty, clean hallway, and looked at Dana carefully, eyes scanning her with predatory skill to look for wounds. When he found none, he relaxed somewhat from the jittery mess he’d been under the surface, a small ripple running down his arms as he calmed down. She was safe. She was completely uninjured. Good. “What happened after the Leader Hunter took you.”

Dr. Mercer was slower to follow, stepping in without a word or reaction--only watching Alex, frowning a fraction at his behavior. He’d known his sister was in New York for a while; he had plenty of unanswered or ignored calls from her cluttering up his phone. This was the first time he’d seen her since he’d left--not much had changed. Good. He’d need that from her, later. Ignoring Alex’s question entirely, he motioned to the virus, a hint of pride on his face as he spoke. 

“I know this is abrupt, but it was dead set on seeing you. As long as I get it back into the lab before work tomorrow, there shouldn’t be an issue.” He averted his eyes for a moment, something seeming to settle on his mind, but he continued. “Dana, meet my life’s work; the Blacklight virus. It has chosen to mimic me.” 

For a moment, she just looked between the two exact twins. Then Dana sighed heavily through her teeth- clearly an inherited tic- and dragged a hand over her face. “Alex-” She pointed to the one behind her, then pointed to the scowling man at her door. Hm, how to distinguish them… “Bitch. I’m calling you that to separate you. So this is simpler.” 

She ignored Bitch’s subtle expression of shock, although it did bring a small smirk to her face, and carried on talking to Alex. “They were taking me to a Hive on the outskirts. Don’t suppose you have anything to do with it being over a month before today?” She tapped a calendar on the wall, the month of September barely having a row crossed off.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dr. Mercer--no, he would not be calling himself ‘Bitch’--narrowed his eyes, finally stepping the rest of the way into the apartment and closing the door behind himself with his foot. As irritated as he was that the virus got the real name rather than him, he didn’t put it past Dana; she was probably bitter towards him or something stupid like that. Instead, he had more important things to focus on. Such as the fact his sister seemed to know the literal virus, and that they were both discussing things he sure as hell didn’t remember. “Leader Hunter? Hive? What exactly have you been doing, Dana?”

“Not to mention the fact it is September. And has been, the entire damn time.” A new edge slipped into his voice as he spoke, and he took a few careful steps toward Dana, glancing between her and his virus. “Considering the fact that’s my virus, I’d like an explanation.”

Alex turned to his Creator, and nearly rolled his eyes. “My virus this, I created you that. I don’t care. Clearly you don’t have anything useful to say, if you don’t remember the fucking apocalypse.” He paused, then added with a small smirk, “Bitch.”

The eye-rolling sentiment was a mutual one, though Dr. Mercer concealed his with a short scoff and frustrated, ‘why-am-I-the-only-one-with-a-brain’ style shake of his head. His studies of the virus hadn’t indicated it caused psychological damage to those it infected, but he couldn’t think of another reason Dana would be so easily agreeing with the virus’ sentiments. That, or his sister hadn’t changed for the better in the five years he’d been away. 

“Apocalypse. Right. Because there’s been a complete and utter destabilization of society any time recently. Since when did you induce delirium in people, because the amount of bullshit you two are spewing is about to drive me up a goddamn wall.” He leaned against the doorway he had yet to leave, looking down on them both in the way he’d greeted many of his less than capable peers back in college. “This is what I get for asking a virus and a journalist for an explanation.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed, and he stalked closer to Dr. Mercer, getting just close enough that the other would feel the pressure of death, if he misspoke. “I’ll give you the simplest run down I can manage, since clearly you know less about the world than I did when I woke up in the morgue.”

He flexed his fingers, whole arm rippling into a spiky weapon, and continued, voice a dark whisper, “You smashed a vial containing a lethal virus- that would be me- in Penn Station on the 7th of October. I took your body, and while trying to find out who I was, your actions lead to a full blown plague and military lockdown. The military decided to nuke the whole place and I took the nuke out over the sea.” Alex paused, staring at the unrecognising expression with disdain, then he continued. “I woke up inside the vial, and now you’re alive as well. Does none of this ring bells?”

“Not even remotely.” His words were short and to the point, concealing the frustrated confusion just beneath the surface. The sheer amount of detail he was being given made it impossible to shrug it off as bullshit, but it made no sense. It wasn’t even October, and he was being accused of what sounded like the start of biological warfare. He grit his teeth, clawing his mind for some sort of realistic explanation to it all. The recognition on Dana’s face wasn’t helping much. 

The woman had been watching the two’s back and forth for a while, trying to piece together what was going on. “Alex- you’re blacklight?” The way he looked away from her, hooded head shading his whole face told her everything. She took a moment to think it over, deciding that yes, that did match up quite well, and no, it didn’t matter. 

“Whatever. You were still nicer to me than Bitch over there.” She gave him a warm, encouraging smile, relieved when he turned those lost eyes back to her. “Doesn’t matter if you’re a- virus.” She stumbled over the sentence, thinking of the Infected, and shook those thoughts out. Alex was different. She hoped. 

Dana turned a much more steely gaze upon her actual brother, who cared just as much about her as he cared for a flea bitten stray- if not less. “You’re coming inside.” She said, authoritative tone developed from weeks of dealing with her superweapon amnesiac brother coming through. “Seems you’ve got some explaining to do, Bitch.”

“I’ve got a lot of explaining to do?” He half debated hanging out in the doorway for the sole purpose of irritating her, but decided now wasn’t the time. Dr. Mercer stepped away from the door, ready to actually enter the apartment but looking none the happier to do so. “If you can show me reports on an apocalypse from a month into the future, maybe I’ll believe you. But as of right now, all I can assume is that Blacklight--” he made a point of the name, emphasizing it as he spoke, “--has contaminated you or something like that. Because I can say without a doubt that only conspiracy theorists and other such dumbasses would agree with either of you.”

Alex bristled, only half figuratively, at the suggestion he would ever hurt Dana. He had no idea how to convey the point to the stubborn man who insisted on taking what scraps of humanity he had left with every sentence. “It may sound crazy, but it’s the truth.” 

He made to shapeshift- show him what forms he shouldn’t have- but all he succeeded in was becoming a vaguely humanoid pile of tendrils before he snapped back to Alex Mercer shaped. Right. He had no Biomass from other people left. He pursed his lips together, looking down at himself contemplatively. Then he decided to just scare the guy into believing. He shifted his arm, ready to consume, and whipped his swirling limb to wrap around Dr. Mercer’s hand, tendrils writhing just above the skin, picking up all the horrible things the guy had touched recently. Like bread. “Trust us, or your hand goes.”

Leave it to Alex to threaten him. Dr. Mercer’s expression remained a glare, but he remained as still as he possibly could; if anyone knew how dangerous Blacklight was, it was him, after all. His options were to humor a virus and his likely infected younger sister, or to lose his hand and probably end up infected himself. As much as he hated it, the answer was obvious. He met Alex’s gaze head on, not even bothering to glance Dana’s way. 

“Fine. I don’t know what the hell you’re expecting to get from that, but fine.” He crossed his arms, ultimately shrugging somewhat. “If I did, apparently, release the virus in Penn Station, there should still be traces of it there. If we find--or don’t find--anything, we might get a better explanation as to what’s going on. Time wise.” 

Dana shot Alex a look, and then addressed Dr. Mercer, “Glad you’re on the right side… for once. Its late, so why don’t you two stay in the spare bedroom? Alex knows where it is.” The virus nodded, and started walking to the room. Although he didn’t need sleep, he’d be glad of the chance to make that disgusting man uncomfortable.

As much as the scientist wanted to argue that he had his own place to stay, as well as the fact he wasn’t worried about a little dark, he didn’t bother. Half because he was genuinely exhausted, much to his own frustration. Half because leaving would mean letting Alex out of his sight. So he followed after the virus without a word, casting Dana a brief glance as he passed.

By the time Dr. Mercer let himself drift off into an uneasy sleep, wary of the predator he’d found himself so close to, the moon was high in the cloudy sky. Alex watched it quietly, taking in the gentle darkness and watching the cloud cover drift and change. Silence was a very novel thing to him. Then, quite suddenly, the soft moonlit room disappeared, Darkness encroaching all corners of his vision. He stood up, his chair shoved behind him by the force, but it was too late. Alex Mercer, the virus who never slept, blacked out.


	2. r2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chaos continues! deja vu (i have been in this place before)

Dr. Mercer was a very careful man. He knew well not to trust any of his coworkers, especially not the ones who had access to his lab, where he studied Blacklight. What a beautifully strange creation it was. Today, although it sat in the same vial in the same cooled test tube rack as always, it seemed to writhe as though alive. 

New behaviour from the sample, without new stimuli. Had it been learning somehow? The thought nearly brought a thin smile to his gaunt features- not that it could be observed behind the glowering expression that rarely ever left his face. The only reason it could learn was because he created it. This was his creation, perfectly deadly, and the motions indicated some strange interactions had occurred. 

Perhaps when his shift was over- in a few short hours- and those thrice damned scared interns left, he could take the sample out to investigate. He had a suspicion someone had perhaps fed it, or mixed some chemicals with it while he had taken his short mandatory rest break this morning.

Dr. Mercer turned his sharp, sleepless gaze onto the two dayshift interns, away from the hypnotic dark sea in the test tube for just a moment. Currently, they were just sorting out some paperwork for him- applications for a higher security level for his lab. They were young, naive. It would befit their character to have handled the sample without gloves, or to have nudged the stopper while moving it just enough that it could consume the skin cell laden air of the insecure lab and grow like this. 

He let out a dark, muted sigh, and turned back to watching the microscope try to process the latest sample he’d managed to acquire. His gaze kept getting drawn to the swirling black vial, which was shifting oddly violently today. What on earth had those two fools done to his virus?

Just beyond that thin layer of glass, the viral biomass churned, shuddering and clawing at the walls of his--not its, his--prison. Slowly, his agitated fit became a conscious one, awareness spreading across the entirety of his biomass as he pressed his form against the edges of the container. 

Why was he here again? He was at Dana’s apartment yesterday. He wasn’t stupid--in fact, memory was one of his greatest feats when he had something to latch onto. Bleary, he made a point to go about the events of the last day. Woke up in a test tube, Dr. Mercer (Bitch) gave him shit, they found Dana and she was ok. Took Bitch to the spare room… and then everything went dark. Now he was locked in glass again, the frustratingly familiar scent of the lab just beyond yet another test tube making him internally hiss. 

Bastard took me back here. Son of a bitch! Two could play at that game. Rather than fully form for the man who’d pried so much at him the other day, he separated a small portion of his biomass, forming a single eye. Sure enough, the exact same lab as the day before greeted him. Filthy, the scent of chlorine and blood meshing together. Bitch seemed invested in some microscope--on the other side of him, a pair of Gentek scientists, distracted with paperwork. The single pupil dilated. He was so low on biomass. So tired. So hungry. He pressed himself against the glass, but had yet to crack it, tendrils whipping against the glass walls in hungry frustration.

His efforts did not go unnoticed by Dr. Mercer, who had become as stiff as a taxidermy ferret. His virus had acquired an eye somehow. Though it was dulled by the glass, and turned away from him, the sight sent primal fear into him. He pushed his chair back, getting up from his desk to approach it from behind, frantically pulling latex gloves over his hands as he walked, shaking slightly from the excitement. The scientist picked it up tenderly, like a newborn bird, and watched the pale blue disembodied eye roll around to face him. 

It was only on account of the two associates that Alex hadn’t tracked Dr. Mercer’s movements, so he earned a momentary startle as his container was lifted. Now, he was staring at Dr. Mercer directly--and if he had the features to do so, he would have squinted at him. He had an entire body yesterday, what the hell was the big deal about an eye? For as smart as Bitch was, he was kinda dumb. Whatever, it didn’t matter. As much as he tried to focus on something else, anything else, he couldn’t get his mind off the associates. The virus pressed his whole form against the wall of the test tube, listening to it crack and ultimately shatter.

He didn’t waste a second once he hit the floor. Before he even reformed, tendrils whipped out from his mass to grab the nearest associate and drag them in. He burrowed into their flesh as they screamed, their partner pinned by fear as they were ripped to shreds. So practiced in consuming by now, devouring them was quick and easy. But it wasn’t enough. He let his body properly reform, returning him to the shape of Alex Mercer--just in time for him to grasp the second worker before they could flee. In a swift act of driving his hand through their stomach, they too were gone. Better. Much better. 

Alex gave a small sigh of relief as the tendrils returned to his form, stretching to readjust to his proper form… again. He twisted on his heel, greeting Dr. Mercer with a scowl and clenched fists. 

“Why are we back here.” It was more of a demand than a question; even with his hunger satisfied, he wasn’t exactly happy to be dragged away from his sister yet again. 

Dr. Mercer had watched his virus destroy the interns (and not him, despite himself being the closest- it recognised him?) with little more than professional curiosity, admiring the way he perfectly cut off the screams. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this wasn’t the first time it had happened, but did that really matter. He responded to the demand with a measured, if somewhat arrogant, tone. “What do you mean by ‘back here’? You’ve been here for years, Blacklight.”

If he were any more expressive of a person, the name would have made him scowl. Instead, he stepped forward, grabbing the scientist by the shirt collar and forcing him forward. (No. Stop it. He was annoying, but he wasn’t going to consume him.) Alex bared his teeth, looking the man’s face over for any signs of recognition. 

“We were with Dana,” he asserted, voice akin to that of a warning growl. Even so, he released his grip, stepping away and letting clenched fists fall to his sides. “Not here. You wanted to investigate Penn Station. So why the hell are we back at Gentek.”

We? It was using plural pronouns- or it had his memories and somehow jumbled itself into them. Dr. Mercer couldn’t wait to take samples of this mimicked form, find out why it chose him, but he had quite the curious conundrum. He hadn’t visited Dana yet, so how did it remember that? Although, something seemed off with that line of thought. A vague feeling of deja vu was wrapping itself around him like a wet blanket in summer. Thick, heavy, distracting.

“I’m afraid your memories seem to be quite… Corrupted. Perhaps you're mixing my intentions for the future with my memories- though where you got Penn Station from I’m a tad perplexed by.” He took a step back, looking over the complete clone of himself, the perfect weapon, with contemplative eyes. “If you could take on a different form, or perhaps return to your container, I’m sure we could roam the streets. Would you like to see the outside world?”

A blink. Two. He couldn’t even hang on to his anger, as utterly confused as he was--although his narrowed eyes and firm frown could easily suggest otherwise. First he missed the entire apocalypse, now he couldn’t remember what had happened yesterday? As much as Alex wanted to blame it on the scientist, it wouldn’t make sense to. Dr. Mercer was a smart man. He wouldn’t let these major things just pass him by, even if he was gonna be a bastard about them. So… what the hell? He dug through his freshly stolen memories, but neither associate knew about much beyond their departments. Luckily, when he was confused, there was one person he could always consult for an answer. 

“Dana. I want to see Dana.” Alex paused for a moment, before casting Dr. Mercer a glare--sharper than the one he was already getting, anyway. “...And no. I don’t want to infect her, or consume her, before you ask. Bitch.” 

Dr. Mercer’s eyebrows disappeared into the dark of his hood. The virus wanted to see his sister, and it didn’t wish to murder her? Clearly it had poor taste in victims- or perhaps good, if it preferred those with a modicum of sense over his milk brained sister. He was quiet for a moment, contemplative. This felt… Familiar. It had no right to be this familiar, considering the former pile of deadly sludge had never indicated sentience. And everytime he saw something new from it, that he thought perhaps he could get excited over, it was as though the joy had been spoiled somehow. 

“Very well then. We can set off right away, but you will have to take on some other shape. The halls are riddled with my colleagues at this time of the day- unless you’d prefer to eat your way through witnesses.”

Rather than answering verbally, a ripple of tendrils went over Alex’s entire form, shifting to that of the second associate he had consumed with practiced ease. He’d broken into enough military bases to know how this worked--hiding in their ranks, avoiding raising any alarm. The last thing he needed was someone getting between Dana and him right now. Rather than waiting for Dr. Mercer, Alex went right for the door, pulling it open and stepping out into the hallway. 

Dana had remembered the apocalypse, so Dana had to remember yesterday. Something the scientist couldn’t do. If this had anything to do with Blackwatch or the infection… he shook off the thought, leaving his creator in the dust as he paced down the only vaguely familiar hall.

His creator cursed under his breath, and followed after the runaway bioweapon, trying to remember the number Blackwatch gave all Gentek employees for emergencies like this. He would try to handle it himself, of course, but just in case. He didn’t actually want to kill his life’s work for merely running off like an untrained mutt.

______________

The combination of Dr. Mercer having brought him here the day before, as well as the additional biomass, made his journey to Dana’s apartment go much quicker. Once outside, he took to the rooftops, darting across them as a black and red blur to close the distance between him and his sister as swiftly as he could. Once again, there was no Blackwatch around, no Infected or Hives. Whatever was going on… Dana and him seemed to be the only two unaffected. After a heavy landing that left a small crater in an empty parking lot, he made his way to the complex--silently noting that the door he’d burst through yesterday was in perfect condition.

That was before. Currently, he lingered behind Dana at her desk, updating her on the most recent events as she skimmed through her computer for some kind of explanation. Dr. Mercer’s memory lapse, the front door being repaired, the earlier hour. Before he could get into much detail, a familiar scent--mixed with sweat--formed in the hallway. Before the scientist could even make it to the door, Alex pulled it open, brow furrowed in his average show of confusion. Rather than say anything, he stepped aside, waiting for the obviously exhausted man to step inside. Why was he so tired? It wasn’t that long of a distance. Weird.

Dr. Mercer stumbled inside, heedless to the wordless confusion displayed by his virus, and collapsed onto the wall, just trying to catch his breath, eyes staring blankly at the calendar in front of him. It was September 10th, not 11th. His idiot sister had the date wrong. Finally, he got his lungs filled with enough air to talk, and pushed himself off the wall. 

“You’re a lot of trouble, Blacklight. I was nearly ready to call Blackwatch if you weren’t here.” He hissed out, still tired despite being able to talk once more. “What’s so special about- her- anyway?”

Blackwatch. It was as though the name had flipped a switch in the virus’ mind. One moment, he was fine, merely closing the door behind the scientist. The next, he had Dr. Mercer by the throat, slamming him into the nearest wall as his free hand formed into a set of massive claws. He didn’t attack, despite the wild look in his eyes and the spikes jutting out from his back. To a trained eye, the look on his face wasn’t rage, but fear. He’d dealt with them--why were they here--

“If you call them, you’ll regret it, Bitch.” He spat every word, entire body tensed and unusually sharp teeth in vivid view. The sound of footsteps and scent of Dana made him pause, but despite vowing to himself that he wouldn’t scare her again, he couldn’t pry himself from that bastard Mercer. He would have called Blackwatch, he would have led them directly to Dana. This was for her good. “She’s my sister. And she knows more than you.” 

“Well,” He huffed, trying to pry the hand off his neck futilely, “It’s a good thing you didn’t go on a killing spree then, isn’t it? No one knows you exist yet- except me and Dana, apparently.” He was certain he’d been told this before, felt the same feelings at the virus calling her its sister. But when? His eyes narrowed, and he could see Dana stepping into the entry hall, and couldn’t resist barbing her. “Something’s very strange here, why do you expect that good for nothing journalist to be helpful?”

How dare he. How DARE he.

With a roar that bordered on inhuman, Alex flung Dr. Mercer into the wall behind him with everything he had. The man tore right through the wall, landing in a heap of rubble on the kitchen floor with a crash loud enough to wake the entire complex. Alex immediately stalked after him, defending Dana the only thought on his mind as he formed his other claw hand. 

“Motherfucker!” He hissed, although he was more mimicking the word from a time he heard Dana use it than anything. 

Dana stood where she was with wide eyes, watching Alex as he used her brother- his creator- to redecorate her wall into chunks of rubble. First off, that was her brother he swung around. Second off, that was her goddamn wall. She dragged a hand down her face, weary already. Wasn’t accidental time travel like this supposed to be good? Instead she got a very unstable adopted brother glowering at the mildly broken but still breathing body of her actual brother. 

“Alex- jesus fuck. Did you really have to break half the wall down?” She sighed, looking out the now dusty kitchen window at familiar red and blue lights. “You got the cops called on us because of this bitch.”

Alex followed her gaze to the window; sure enough, even from here, he could catch the sound of sirens and the rushing of boots. Shit. Where there were cops, there were Marines--and where they were, Blackwatch followed. He turned his gaze toward the floor, awkwardly nudging some of the rubble with his foot. 

“...Sorry,” he mumbled, leaning down just enough to pick up Dr. Mercer and toss him over his shoulder. “What now?” 

“Either we run, or you explain how you smashed the wall in on your twin.” Dana rolled her eyes, “It’s not like you’re known here yet, we could get you a decent start.”

Confusion flickered across his face for a moment as he considered it. Right--it was September. Dr. Mercer hadn’t released the virus yet. Even so, the thought of facing individuals who wanted him dead on a normal day wasn’t a fond one. So he shrugged, turning away from his sister so he could open the window. The sirens, louder now that the glass wasn’t blocking them, made him grimace a fraction, but he pushed the thought aside. He only knew fight and flight--only one of her options matched either of those. 

“Is the safehouse still open?” He was sure she preferred her actual apartment, but it wasn’t exactly an option at the moment. 

Dana cracked a smile, relieved. This was definitely still the Alex she’d gotten to know. Quiet, careful, very clueless, and most of all, strangely caring. Even though he didn’t seem to care for Dr. Mercer (quite the opposite, probably), the way he held him over his shoulder wasn’t exactly cruel or painful, like she’d expect of him if he was still spiteful. He was like a firework, explosive one minute silent the next. 

“It’s been open since July. Friend’s been gone awhile. I’ll get the keys. Do you want to…” She gestured at the unconscious copy of Alex, “Maybe go a different route?”

Even with Dr. Mercer over his shoulder and the cops nearing their door, her smile seemed to brighten his mood a fraction, even if it was only visible in a brief shudder of tendrils. There’d been an emptiness in his day-to-day existence since she’d been captured by the Hunter, one that didn't get better when she remained unconscious. She was back, now, and that was what mattered. He glanced between her and the window, contemplating it for a moment. 

“Probably.” He moved his free hand to rest on his head, digging through his memories for a moment. He had plenty of alternate ways to get there; he’d sure been there more times than he had her actual apartment. “Is there anything here you need…? Before we leave.” 

She glanced to the direction of the hall, where she could hear the cops coming, and rummaged through her work bag for the keys before returning to the messed up kitchen. “Just get us out of here, we can figure the rest out at the Safehouse.” 

Nothing else needed to be said. Once she came back to the kitchen, he picked her up with his free arm, making sure she was in a comfortable but stable position before climbing out the window with Dana and Dr. Mercer in tow. Climbing without the use of his hands wasn’t as difficult as it seemed--all he needed to do was drop from the window, then airdash back to the building to get a running start. Alex sprinted up the wall, not stopping once he hit the rooftop. He leaped from the building, dropping down onto the next before repeating the procedure again. The sooner he could get Dana (...and Dr. Mercer) out of here, the better. 

______________

Dr. Mercer came too slowly, head pounding from the impact. Where the hell was he? This ceiling was filthier than his entire house combined. Something cold was on his head, and someone had taken off most of his jackets. He pushed himself up- or tried to, merely dropping back down with a hiss when a dizzy spell knocked him down. He closed his eyes tight, breathing thinly through his nose. His virus had turned on him- and taken him somewhere instead of consuming him. The more time he spent with it, the more bizarre it revealed itself to be.

Dr. Mercer’s hiss of pain attracted not the attention of the virus in question, but Dana. She stood in front of where her brother laid, arms crossed and one brow raised as she regarded him. A part of her was happy he wasn’t dead--but that was pretty easy to ignore with his decision to degrade her earlier. Missed you too, asshole. She took a seat on the other side of the couch, though not before shoving his legs out of the way. 

“I was starting to think he put you in a coma or something.” She shook her head, looking toward one of the walls rather than her freshly awoken brother. She started to say something else, but hesitated, only to shove it aside entirely as she finally faced him. “You really don’t remember anything about yesterday?” 

He cracked his eyes open at a familiar, but very different voice to how he remembered. When did his scared little sister get a backbone? Not from journalism, he figured. It took him a while to get his balance back when she tossed his legs off so casually, gripping the thrift store sofa with a bone white death grip for several moments while she talked. Looks like he’d picked up a mild concussion. Lovely. Her words didn’t exactly give him much to orient himself with, either.

“The only odd thing yesterday was finally checking your countless whining texts,” He grouched, glaring at a mysterious purple stain on the floor that his head was making dance like the rest of the furniture, before practically spitting out the issue he had with the whole scenario before he lost the ability to speak to the dizziness. “Today’s been much more irritatingly unique. Blacklight escaping and coming to find you- it felt like it had done that before somehow.” 

Dana rolled her eyes at the mention of her ‘whining texts’, but otherwise frowned, thinking over what he had to say. Jesus, he really didn’t remember it at all, did he? She almost wondered if he was just fucking with her, but that’d require a sense of humor--something her older brother was lacking in. She leaned back, thinking through what information she had with a slight furrow of her brow. This was one hell of a story, to say the very least. 

But if Bitch was going to keep getting wrapped up in this shit, she might as well give him the rundown.

“Probably because he was here yesterday, with you.” She raised a brow, huffing a little through her nose. “You came here, he nearly ripped the door off, and he explained the actual fucking apocalypse to you. But even if Alex and I remember it, you don’t have a clue.” 

She was delusional. She had to be. He wanted to believe it, but he couldn’t quite get himself too. The cloying deja vu and the way the explanation clicked right with some blurry, nearly gone, memories did match up with the story. The thought of time travel made his expression sour. The sort of information these two could have on him without him knowing at all… Well. At least Blacklight wouldn’t try to ruin his whole life. He’d just infect or consume him, like he had those two meddlesome interns. He could deal with death over having his privacy invaded any day.

“It’s… Whatever.” He grunted, putting his head in his hands, closing those dark rimmed eyes to get the moonlight to stop irritating him. He didn’t want to think about the future or time travel or the apocalypse. He was tired, felt like he had the world’s worst hangover, and stuck with two near strangers god knows where. “What’s Blacklight doing?”

It’s whatever. Yeah, that was probably the most accurate thing he had ever said in a long time. 

“Alex,” she put emphasis on the name, side-eyeing her brother for a moment, “said he wanted to cook dinner, so he’s in the kitchen. Hopefully he’s in the kitchen, anyway.” She pressed against the back of the couch, trying to see if she could peer into the kitchen from where she was sitting before ultimately giving up. “I hope to hell he didn’t get either of our cooking skills.” 

Dr. Mercer froze, considering the implications of that statement. A virus, who had been sentient for a maximum possible time of 2 years, was cooking them food. The virus who had decided to mimic Alex Mercer. He groaned quietly. The most complex food he made was rice and peas in the microwave, and Dana likely wasn’t much better. “Bla-” He paused, then corrected himself, “Alex! What are you cooking?”

There was a momentary pause, followed by the clattering of pans and a just audible, matter-of-fact, “Spaghetti.” The clattering continued, before coming to a sudden halt. In its place was the normal, less dangerous sound of someone cooking.

Dr. Mercer and Dana exchanged a glance, unified by the primal terror of cooking food they both shared from growing up without any cooks in the house. Dana got up carefully, padding over to the kitchen to look at the hooded menace lurking in the kitchen more closely. “Just Spaghetti?” She had no idea how to make the stuff, but the amount of pans looked… a little too numerous.

Alex turned to face her just as she stepped through the doorway, a subtle glint in his pale eyes as he held out a plate to her. On it was something that could only barely be called spaghetti--overcooked pasta noodles that had been methodically coated in Nutella. He held the plate out to her without a word, not even offering a fork to eat it with. He seemed pretty proud of his work; after all, humans liked both of these things, and food was bound to make Dana feel better. Always worked for him. 

Dana looked at the food. Looked at him. Looked back at the food. “I… Don’t think it’s a good idea to eat that.” She kept up a grimace of a smile, too unsettled by the strange creation to explain why exactly. 

Alex furrowed his brow for a moment, visibly confused. He tried to sort it out on his own--why wouldn’t this be a good idea to eat? It was two things humans enjoyed, and he combined them, which should lead to the maximum level of enjoyment. Maybe she just didn’t know what it was? It did look something like his tendrils, though why the actual fuck would he feed his sister pure Blacklight virus. Assuming it was that, he set the plate down on the counter (shoving away some other pans as he did, though these were also all full of pasta), and retreated further into the kitchen to grab the components. Alex showed her the empty spaghetti box, then the Nutella, all of which he had scraped out. 

“It’s spaghetti and Nutella,” he explained, his expression not shifting from the confused look he so often had. “It’s good.” 

“Have you tried it?” Dana crossed her eyes and raised an eyebrow. Hopefully tasting it would make him realise the horrific mistake he had made in combining those ingredients.

A glance at her. Then a glance down at the plate. This was actually for her, but if she insisted. Stepping away, tendrils snaked out from his body to grab the food, plate and all. He pulled it against his stomach with a splat, before additional tendrils formed to properly consume the meal. Chocolate, with a hint of nut, combined with the taste of… well, pasta. The flavor was gone as quickly as it was there, given the fact he finished it off swiftly. Hm… she was right. It needed something. He nodded to himself as he stepped over to the fridge, pulling it open and digging through until he could find what he was looking for. Something to add flavor… perfect. He slammed the door shut, hard enough to make the whole apartment shudder, before pacing back over with the bottle of mustard. 

“This should fix it.” Despite the horrified screams of the associates, he took off the lid of the bottle, and proceeded to dump all of its contents on yet another plate of Nutella spaghetti. Again, he offered the plate to his sister. 

Dana took the plate. She did not respect this… Insult to food. That she had been served. But she did respect Alex and he had seemed so proud and determined to show her it. She grabbed a fork from the cutlery draw, and slowly, fearfully, lifted a single wrapped strand onto the fork, and up further to her mouth. The moment it touched her lips, the world went dark.


	3. r3i

** r3i **

Alex came back to awareness in what was becoming a damned familiar situation. Resting without any sense other than touch and muted, strange smells & sounds coming to him within a vial. Carefully, he formed an eye once more, swivelling around to look outside his container. The lights were off- different from the last few times, and neither the Associates (where had their voices gone?) or Bitch were with him. Perfect. He coiled himself tighter within the vial, until it simply cracked and broke from the pressure. Escaping was a weird feeling, but soon he was back in his usual form, all limbs present. 

He rolled his shoulders, looking around the empty lab, before catching sight of a clock. 3AM- that would explain why he was all alone here. Looking around with thermal vision provided only a few people nearby- moving in predictable patterns around the perimeter. Security guards. Alex smirked, and started moving out, affecting a confident, grouchy swagger like he guessed Bitch would use. Bitch worked here, and if they questioned him- well, his biomass wasn’t too low but he was _always_ hungry. 

Thankfully for the guards, they didn’t do anything to him other than grumble over how late he worked. Once he hit the streets, he slowed down, looking around the area. Besides a few stumbling drunks, and the dozing homeless, he was clear. Not that he knew where to go. Dana was always a good option- but she’d looked so upset by the food he made her that she might yell at him. Maybe- maybe he should give her some space. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, and stalked through the streets to the other person he knew. He’d overheard their conversation while he was running the spaghetti through the chocolate- Bitch had some deja vu or something. He _might_ remember properly this time.

The walk went easily enough- no military to stop him this time- and he was within sight of his destination when _something_ dripped onto his hood. He flinched, whipping around to find the source, but more kept dripping from above. He looked up, wary, and realised what was happening. _Rain_. His heart jumped into his throat, and he broke into a dead sprint to the apartment complex Dr. Mercer resided within, barely restraining himself from just smashing through the door. He fiddled with the lock frantically as the _water_ whipped against his back, eventually causing the door to open with a quiet chime. 

He stumbled into the lobby, trying to shake off the dewdrops coating his jacket, his face, his trousers, his _everything_. It was pretty futile, but some of it slid off. Alex was glad he was alone here, but carried on his frantic, inelegant rush, taking the stairs one staircase at a time and rushing for the door he’d gone to before, when he was just trying to find things out. It was locked.

He removed the lock with his fist, crushing the mechanism, and let himself in, for a moment just breathing, trying to shake off the panic the simple raindrops induced. He could fight off entire squadrons of the military, survive a nuclear blast, and throw tanks around like pebbles, but _water_ reduced him to little more than a terrified mess. Because that made sense.

With a low growl, he made his way to the Bitch of a Doctor, slipping into the unsecured room easily. He stood by the bed, like a grim reaper of some sort come to take his due, and placed one cold (definitely not clammy) hand on his creator’s shoulder. “ _Wake up,_ ” He hissed. Maybe he wanted someone he knew to talk to, maybe he figured the guy would know why water fucked him up, maybe he hoped the bitch would finally remember that today was repeating. He didn’t know, but he wanted the guy up and talking, and _fast_.

Dr. Mercer shot awake suddenly at the cold grip _someone_ had on his shoulder. The room was dark and he couldn’t see the intruders face under their hood, especially with the darkness of the early morning sky they stood against, but he knew they were an intruder. Had he forgotten to lock the door? He rolled off his bed, coming to unsteady feet and pulling a knife from his bedside drawer, waving it at the stranger as he snarled out questions. “Who the _fuck_ are you, how did you get in here?”

After everything he’d been through, the knife brandished his direction was almost laughable. Almost. Alex didn’t even flinch, the scowl concealed by the shadow of his hood a vivid show of how little he was willing to put up with right now. He stepped forward, and a tendril whipped out from him, just long enough to knock the knife from Bitch’s hand. He was still soaked, however; it retreated as quickly as it could, like a snake clamoring into hiding.

“It’s _Alex_.” He snapped, though his hopes that Bitch would actually even remember were incredibly low. Didn’t matter--if he tried to pick a fight, there were plenty of walls Alex could throw him through. For now, though, he just… he didn’t even know what he wanted. He stepped away from the scientist, offering no further words. His fists remained tightly clenched at his sides; he was almost glad for the darkness concealing how tense he was. 

The Blacklight like tendril lashing out, the voice, it was… Familiar. He didn’t bother picking up the knife, straightening up to glower at the dripping wet man before him, moving around to investigate closer. He made to grab the others face, force it into the light, but a painful flash of memory- seeing his own face, blades in his shoulder, shattered glass doors- had him staggering back, one pale hand curled around his bed frame for support. “We’ve… Done this before.”

While he wouldn’t have expressed it in any way, he had to admit, watching Bitch’s attempts to grab at him go wrong was nice. If he had touched him in his current state, nothing would have stopped him from impaling him, anyway. He moved over to the wall and leaned against it. Watching, cold gaze piercing through the dark and incredibly unamused. 

“Twice.” He glanced around the dark room, taking in what he could, before his gaze settled back on Bitch. A shudder ran down his spine, and he grit his teeth in annoyance. Stupid rain. Stupid creator. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension from his shoulders without success. “We’ve done this twice. Are you putting it together yet? Because I sure as hell don’t want to explain everything _again_.” 

“I… Yes.” He didn’t appreciate the onslaught of memories from days he had not lived, but he stood taller, curiosity glinting in his cold eyes, even as the explanations returned to him. This was _his_ creation, and somehow it had acquired time travel- no, a time _loop_! It gave him a feeling like a parent might have when their child shows them a ugly scribble of crayons- _pride _. Yes, that was it, pride! Blacklight, though it, or he, preferred to be called Alex, had done far more than he ever expected.__

__His voice, though he tried to keep it steady, was high and quick from his excitement at the events, once he’d got his thoughts back under lock and key, “I have- many questions for you. I never expected you to become _sentient_. I don’t know where to begin!” _ _

___There_ was the prying scientist Alex met at the beginning of every loop. Only this time, Dana wasn’t there to get between them. He cast a glance toward the window, bristling at the sound of the rain coming down and sploshing around all over the streets and sidewalk. Like hell he was going back out there. He sunk into his collar with a quiet huff, pressing himself against his wall. There was a saying about this--pick the one that was less bad, or something. He didn’t have any extra memories in his head to back him up, so he pushed it aside for now._ _

__“You can start by getting me a towel.” It was half a demand, half a plea, though the former took precedence in his tone. He wasn’t sure how much prodding he could handle while he was still soaked; he was surprised he hadn’t broken something yet. It was uncomfortable, no, much worse than that. It felt like Bloodtox all over again without it actually hurting him--a heavy weight on his chest that tried to keep him from breathing. He paused for a good moment, regaining his composure, then continued. “It’s _raining_ out there. I’m soaked.” _ _

__Keen eyes watched every uncomfortable twitch, the way something _other_ rippled beneath the jacket without Alex seeming to notice, and he considered the reasons for it. Perhaps it- _he_ \- still breathed through his skin and the water choked him? Or perhaps the water acted as a natural viricide for Blacklight, although that seemed unlikely… _ _

__Either way, he would need drying off quickly. It wouldn’t do for such a perfect creature to suffer. He stepped across the hall into the bathroom, reaching for a towel, then a glint of pink on the shelf over the sink made him pause. “If you’re comfortable with hot air, there is a hairdryer here. Towels as well, but that’s far less effective.”_ _

__For as much as he hated Bitch’s attitude and treatment of Dana, desperate times called for desperate measures--the same thing that had led to him trusting Captain Cross. Which… ended poorly, but whatever. He stalked after Dr. Mercer, moving his arms to wrap them tightly around his chest in silent dismay. While he stayed outside the bathroom (too small a space), he watched Dr. Mercer like a hawk, the light catching a glint of his bared teeth. Even so, he couldn’t help but perk up (a few tendrils he didn’t realize had separated from his form snapped back into place) at the thought of both towels and a hairdryer. Specifically the drying part._ _

__“I don’t care.” He didn’t know if he was comfortable with it, actually. He just knew he sure as hell wasn’t comfortable right _now_. He clutched onto himself for a moment, waiting with as much patience as anyone soaking wet would have. Particularly when every cell in their body was trying to curl inside out to get away from the water. “I’m not gonna be picky if it works, alright? Just--hurry up.”_ _

__Dr. Mercer shrugged and plugged the device in, tossing it at Alex, grabbing some towels and putting them on the sink edge for him when he was ready before slipping past him, tiredness driving him to his kitchen. “Suit yourself, I’m going to get coffee.”_ _

__The second Dr. Mercer was out of the bathroom, Alex darted in, making the entire apartment shudder with how aggressively he slammed the door shut. After a moment of fumbling with the pink device--hairdryer--he turned it on, and immediately switched it to the maximum setting. He was quick to act, using both the hairdryer and towels alike to get rid of even the smallest molecule of rain. He had to loosen a great deal of his form to get it out of his clothes, as even artificial fabric clung to water like there was no damn tomorrow, but he eventually managed to dry. He hadn’t expected it to be as much of a relief as it was; he could breathe right, and he no longer had that subconscious urge to twist himself inside out just to get away from the liquid._ _

__At the very least, Alex was glad Dana hadn’t had to see him like that._ _

__He stepped from the bathroom, leaving a pile of towels (he’d used every single one Bitch had left out for him, for good measure) on the floor without much regard. The soft clinking of a cup, the whirr of a machine, and both Bitch’s scent and one he recognized after a moment as coffee made it easy to seek the scientist out. His footsteps didn’t so much as creak the floorboard, despite his destructive capacity; soon enough, he was standing right behind Dr. Mercer, watching him with far less intensity. The growl in his voice had died back down into a normal rasp, but it was laced with curiosity._ _

__“How’s your coffee?”_ _

__The Doctor jumped in his skin, turning away from the countertop mug in hand to face Alex. The virus could move very quietly indeed when he so chose, it seemed. Perfect for stealth assassinations- or sneaking up on people like him, it seemed. He took a sip of the coffee, and realised he hadn’t put milk in immediately._ _

__“Pretty shit.” He muttered, opening his fridge a crack to see he had nothing resembling milk- unless he counted the mouldy blood sample he’d forgotten about weeks ago which was a curious white colour. He continued sipping the drink, letting the bitter taste drive him to wakefulness. It was nearly 4am. He wasn’t supposed to be up until 10:30am, the latest possible time he could wake up. Alex didn’t seem bothered, dark rings under his eyes being more of an aesthetic choice, apparently. “Do you need sleep _at all?_ ”_ _

__Shit, Dana told him not to sneak up on people like that. Even if this was just Dr. Mercer, rather than her. He muttered a quick apology, stepping aside to watch the man drink the coffee despite very plainly saying he didn’t like it. Something he had to do, more than something he wanted to do, then. Like those Alex had consumed. He made a mental note to ask Dana if she had enough coffee at the safehouse--or would she be at her apartment? Shit was weird._ _

__The question pulled Alex’s focus back to the present, and after a moment of contemplation, he shrugged._ _

__“No. Tried once. Didn’t work.” He thought back to it, sprawled across the couch at the safehouse, tossing and turning until he couldn’t handle the stillness anymore. As if in example, he started pacing the kitchen, keeping away from the windows as much as he possibly could. “It’s better for me to be awake, anyway.” Couldn’t protect Dana if he was unconscious._ _

__Dr. Mercer nodded, and without prompting tugged on a beaded rope near the window, causing the blinds to cover up the rainy exterior. It wouldn’t do much for the sound but it would help reduce the total unpleasant stimuli. “That makes sense, very few natural viruses exhibit regular resting behaviour, the closest would be entering a state like hibernation due to negative stimuli, which you never did show signs of, even before you… Awoke.” He swilled the remainder of his coffee around the mug, thoughts coming to a trailing halt, “Could you tell me more about that?”_ _

__While Alex didn’t verbally respond to the blinds closing, he visibly relaxed; his pacing slowed, although he didn’t cease movement entirely. Complete stillness was something he only felt comfortable with around Dana, considering the fact he was shot the last time he tried. Besides. The more he moved, the more angles he could observe Dr. Mercer from. He was still a bitch, a bastard who dared insult Dana right to Alex’s face. But he was the only victim, so to speak, Alex didn’t really know. Bits and pieces, combined with what others told him, and that was it. Besides, if Bitch was going to keep staring him down like they were back in Gentek, he could damn well return the favor._ _

__He knew a lot, too. The virus silently noted the thing about resting to himself--how much else could he learn? The desire to know about himself had faded since he learned his true identity, but faced with the man who made him, he could feel it trying to spark back up. So little he understood, so much Dr. Mercer could explain. He could _really_ know about himself, about what it meant to be him, not Alex Mercer or any of his other disguises. As much as he disliked the bastard, he knew when someone was worth keeping around._ _

__His thoughts were derailed by the follow-up, however. Alex turned away sharply, squeezing his eyes shut and resting a hand on his head. It was a habit, the same motion he copied for any resurfacing memories--only these were _actually_ his. _ _

__“I woke up in a morgue. I had your face, and they called me by your name, so I thought I was you.” It was… weird, referring to the fact the face he had now wasn’t really his own. He knew it, and he’d known it since Cross had told him, but it was the very first one he’d ever had. Just habit, probably. Talking about it took his mind off the sound of the rain, though, so he continued, even as he brushed a hand over where bullets had once pierced through his chest. “I ran. Blackwatch chased. Eventually, I found Dana. Not much more to it than that.”_ _

__Hearing his own voice talk, in the calm, near mumbling tone that Alex adopted, made Dr. Mercer unsettled, for a very simple, easy to understand reason. That was _his_ voice, coming out of _his own mouth_ but he was looking at the one speaking. It was like dissociating while completely sober- although the tiredness certainly didn’t let him have full use of his facilities. He mused over Alex’s words, pondering them. They were simple, to the point, but left bereft of so many details he’d need to know to confirm any theories he had. Might as well start with a simple, neutral question line then. “So, you don’t have any memories from before you took my identity? How old would you say you are?”_ _

__The sensation wasn't something Alex could relate to. The people he took the faces of died in the process, so while this was his first interaction with someone identical to him, he knew neither of them looked like _him_ . He shook his head at the first question; if waking up in a test tube the last three days said anything, he was perfectly fine not remembering. As for how old he was… he hadn't thought about it before. Not like his age mattered much in the middle of everyone trying to kill him. _ _

__"Around three weeks today, I guess. That's as far back as I remember." Remember that was his, anyways, though his head only had Dr. Mercer's scattered memories to go off of as of now. "Why?"_ _

__Dr. Mercer managed to cover up the surprised huff of air that left him at the admission by quickly finishing off the last dregs of his coffee, using the moment to think over the implications. Despite his complete lack of care for children in general, something about the fact his deadly weapon had all the knowledge of a newborn that barely avoided assassination every day- and a simple, trusting worldview to match unsettled him._ _

__“You’re not even a _month old_ ,” He half whispered, staring with wide eyes at the pacing, nervous being before him. He couldn’t exactly back away, hide the concern that slipped into his voice at this point, so he could only continue. “Did Dana- teach you anything?” He fumbled over his words, and avoided making eye contact. Shit. What the hell was he even trying to get from that question? He clamped his jaw shut, not letting any more poorly thought out words slip from between his traitorous lips._ _

__His pacing came to a halt, and he turned to face the scientist directly. The air was different, as was Dr. Mercer's expression and tone. He thought to the time Dana called for him to be careful, right as he was headed off to handle Blackwatch and sort out his identity. Concern? It fit, but it sure as hell didn't make sense. Why was his age concerning? Why was Bitch concerned about him? He blinked several times, furrowing his brow and frowning._ _

__"Not yet. I just need another week, then I will be." It wasn't like he was three hours old or something. That was a while ago. He tilted his head up a fraction at the mention of his sister, and he was quick to nod. "Lots of things. She's how I found out about Gentek, and most of what I know about you. I couldn't have done shit without her." The memory of the Leader Hunter took away any light that had come to his face, and he huffed a little._ _

__"Other stuff I learned through consuming. You already know about that."_ _

__While he talked, Dr. Mercer managed to smooth down the expression on his face so it wasn’t just the raw worried concern that had reared up from the depths of his cold heart, and instead resembled something vaguely professional. Which meant he just looked mildly pissed, because that was his only setting while dealing with his idiot coworkers. It seemed like Alex knew very little on his own merits, if he guessed the implications of consuming right. Perfect for murder, not so much for daily life- if the nutella incident or breaking a whole wall in a mere temper tantrum showed anything. “If you want to know anything- _anything_ at all- you can ask me.”_ _

__He glanced up, watching the subtle shifts in Dr. Mercer's expression from behind the shadow of his hood. Hide his face all he wanted, Alex could still smell the concern on him. Understand it, no, but he could definitely smell it. But it didn't matter. The scientist was offering him information, and for the longest time, it was all he genuinely wanted. He flicked both his wrists, just as something to do with his hands as he pondered. As of now, one question was at the front of his mind._ _

__"Why is water so bad?" He made a sharp motion to the window, content with the blinds concealing the outside. "If you… made me, you'd know. Nothing like that has happened before." Save for Bloodtox, but that would take a whole round of explaining. Thinking back on both incidents had him anxiously tensing, tendrils coming to the surface and sinking back into his biomass at regular intervals._ _

__The body language was quite inhuman, but Dr. Mercer could understand it quite well. The mere thought of water drove him away, like salt to a slug. “I’d been pondering that. I’ve got a few theories, but it's difficult to say without tests of your tissues- your makeup likely changed somewhat when you developed sentience. It's possible water is acting like a poison to you, or that it prevents you from breathing air by coating your ‘skin’ completely.”_ _

__He stood up, moving to place the cup in the sink, but stopped himself before turning the tap on. That would be… Quite the bad idea. “We never tested your effects on truly living beings, just samples, but a large part of the Blacklight project was to create a virus that could survive outside of a host for a long time. Which meant a lot of effort went towards ensuring you could survive drought, extreme temperatures, and locate potential new hosts efficiently- among other things. It’s possible the specialisations _against_ water loss made you more vulnerable to getting negative effects from being near water. Your reactions seem similar to before- though filtered through a mind this time.”_ _

__With a sigh, Dr. Mercer turned to face the young man across from him, meeting those careful, focused, nervous eyes for a moment. “I can’t say this enough, but we never expected you to become sentient. For the most part, viruses are simply snippets of code which devour their hosts. Your ability to use biomass, and your sense of self, make you very difficult to predict. I’d love to speculate more on your properties, but it’s quite possible you merely discovered a phobia you didn’t realise you had before. It could be purely psychological, or a mix, or even just an instinctive response.”_ _

__Despite how big of a deal had been made out of Alex's age mere minutes ago, he kept up with the explanation just fine. It was like talking to Dr. Ragland, or Karen, though the latter spurred a flicker of dismay to his face. From the perspective of a virus, it made sense--he was too adapted to dry climates, so water was bad. It was the talk about phobias and the psychological that threw him off. Maybe he should have consumed a psychologist. He shook off the thought. Whatever it meant, it probably wasn't that big of a deal. He had the water thing figured out, meaning he could make sure that didn't get used against him by Blackwatch._ _

__He turned his attention outside, listening for a moment. No Blackwatch, just rain. The occasional car from those who had morning shifts. If the days kept repeating, they wouldn't find Dana or him, right? Not if everything that happened kept getting undone. It was reassuring and anxiety wracking all the same. Without taking his eyes off the wall, focused on what was going on beyond it, he moved on._ _

__"Do you need something to eat? Besides coffee."... Not that letting Alex cook was an even remotely good idea, as he'd since learned. But it was worth asking, until he came up with more questions. He could ask about daily life, but that hadn't occurred to him just yet--much less the idea it was an option._ _

__Dr. Mercer shook his head no, and stood up, brushing the wrinkles of his slept-in clothes out. “I’m not hungry at the moment,” _Lies_ , his stomach whispered, but he ignored it, “If you want to play around in the kitchen, however, I’ll not stop you. I’ve still got…” He looked at the kitchen clock, doing some mental maths, “Just over five hours till I should go to work. I’m going to watch the news or something. Try to figure out how to explain the missing vial of bioweapon, and such.” _ _

__Slinking off to the living room, he turned the news on, seeing with a grimace the topic of the reports. Even if time was repeating this day over and over, he still had the rest of today to get through, and that included showing up to work where he was genetically engineering a deadly virus- which was now missing from the workplace. His colleagues would panic, no doubt. Perhaps they would find Alex on security tapes and decide to kill them both. Just the thought of it made his stomach churn. The fools wouldn’t understand what had happened. Perhaps if he looked for evidence at Penn, or sought out the cause of the time loop, his mind would settle._ _

__Alex narrowed his eyes, trying to determine the truth in Bitch’s words, but ultimately just let him go about his business. Five hours until they needed to explain where the hell Blacklight had gone, and frankly, he’d leave that to Dr. Mercer to figure out. Not wanting to try his hand at cooking without any memories to go off of, he stepped from the kitchen. Rather than following the other into the living room, however, he moved down the hallway, seeking out the photos he knew lined the wall._ _

__They were just where he’d left them. Photos of Dr. Mercer and Dana, Dana and a friend, Dr. Mercer and Karen. He let his gaze linger on the last one, a tight frown briefly making its way onto his face. Did Dr. Mercer know Karen Parker would willingly sell him out? Or had she known with a single glance that Alex wasn’t the one she knew? He forced his gaze away, settling some of the biomass that had formed into small, jagged spikes up his arms from the heavy feeling of betrayal. He’d trusted her. Hadn’t felt the same degree of “together” that she apparently had with Dr. Mercer, but he’d still trusted her._ _

__Better to look at the photos of Dana. But even then, gazing at the familiar face, he furrowed his brow. The photos had made sense when he thought they were his. He would have treasured every moment he had with Dana, taken photos, put them up on the walls to show just how much he cared about his sister._ _

__But with Dr. Mercer, why would he decorate his wall with images of a “good for nothing journalist”? If he thought so little of her, then why did he remind himself of her? He brushed his fingers over one of the photos, grimacing as flashes of memory that weren’t his filled his head. They looked so close. Why did Dr. Mercer push her away?_ _

__...Like hell if he could figure that out. He could only ever make sense of people by consuming them. Alex scowled, rubbing his eyes with an irritated huff. They had bigger issues to focus on, right? So they would focus on those. Following the fading scent of coffee and the sound of the TV, Alex made his way to the living room, lingering in the doorway and watching the news with a distant sort of curiosity. Dr. Mercer was either deep in thought, or very annoyed with whatever the TV was showing._ _

__“You said we have five hours, right?” He kept his voice just loud enough to be heard over the TV’s sound, though he didn’t move his gaze from it. It was actually pretty interesting. “So we should do something with all that time. Any ideas?”_ _

__He looked away from the TV to Alex, contemplative. “I was considering heading out to check on Penn Station to see if there’s any evidence there that perhaps travelled back with you, but the sky is still drizzling. It doesn’t clear up until around 2pm, unfortunately.”_ _

__He shrugged his shoulders, leather jacket crumpling briefly at the motion. “Until I get my hands on something related to the current situation, there’s not much to do. Usually I’d sleep away most of my spare time, so I’m sure you understand why I’m not the most... entertaining host.”_ _

__Not until 2pm--also known as a shit ton of rain. He swore under his breath, sinking into his hood like an angry child might. Normally, he would have passed all the extra time by running around the city, but not even that was an option. At least investigating Penn Station was a good idea, even if the mere name had him gritting his teeth and holding his head. It was the hardest memory of Dr. Mercer’s to dwell on. And for good reason, seeing as the man had literally died then. Alex’s interest in the TV died off as soon as it had come, and he wandered back into the hallway, intent on pacing the hours away._ _

__He could handle waiting until the rain stopped. That was fine. And if they weren’t able to find anything out today, there was always tomorrow._ _

__

__The hours passed swiftly, but as 10:30 AM drew closer, and Dr Mercer was ready to set off on the quick, 15 minute walk to the lab, one thing remained to do. He followed the sounds of heavy footfalls- Alex had long since ceased the ghostlike walking- to meet him in the middle of the hallway. He cleared his throat, “We need to set off soon. You’ll have to brave the rain.” There- quick, precise, and to the point. Hopefully it would be enough._ _

__If he was honest, Alex was bored out of his mind. The more he paced the house, the more trapped he started to feel; he was used to running across rooftops, shattering concrete when he landed, battling against the wind when he chose to glide. Not… an apartment. He hadn’t spent this much time indoors since Dr. Ragland was investigating the parasite. He stopped caring about how heavy his footfalls were, putting his mind entirely to pacing every inch of the household to try and occupy himself. But he’d finished that goal within the first hour, so he was just bored. The floor creaked unsteadily beneath him, and just as he was going to start running his claws along the walls to get some kind of activity, he nearly ran into Dr. Mercer._ _

__His arms shifted back to hands, though what he heard wasn’t exactly a good thing. He could get out of the house, thank fucking god, but at the cost of the rain. A shudder ran through his whole body, biomass twisting in dismay just beneath the surface despite the fact he hadn’t even moved toward the door yet. He shuddered, and before he could even think about it, he was shaking his head._ _

__“No.” He didn’t give himself the chance to reconsider, instead twisting on his heel to return to his pacing. This wasn’t something he could just _say no_ to. What the hell was he doing. He wanted out, but the thought of going outside now had his whole body hissing disagreement. _ _

__Dr Mercer shook his head with a sigh when Alex reacted so fearfully to the suggestion. He had little patience for this sort of thing, but the fact that it was _Alex_ and also the time constraints made him try again, albeit tersely. He stepped over some of the dents in his floor (thank fuck there was a time loop, he liked his flat floor to stay that way), and called out, voice flat with irritation, “Alex? I know this will be difficult for you but you don’t have to be so damn _bratty about it_. I do own water proof clothes.”_ _

__His creator’s audible annoyance made tendrils ripple down his back, though not as freely as they normally would have--after all, his body seemed more intent on closing in on him than anything else. He would be as bratty as he damn well pleased. It wasn’t _his_ fault Dr. Mercer had made him intolerant to water. He glanced at the scientist over his shoulder, unbothered by the fairly deep holes he currently stood in. He knew they needed to go. How else were they supposed to get any answers? It was just that the more he thought about the rain, the more repulsed he felt about going out there. Waterproof clothes or not, he doubted they’d cover his entire biomass, a thought that made him hiss in disdain._ _

__“If you go,” he motioned toward the door without turning around, “I can catch up later. Once the rain dies down, I can get to Gentek in a matter of minutes. I don’t know why the hell I need to come along now.” Because he was an escaped bioweapon whose absence could cause incomprehensible chaos. He crossed his arms, trying to get his writhing biomass under control with a very firm scowl. He could take a whole nuke. He could handle some rain. If he ran, he could get out of the rain quick enough that it wouldn’t matter, anyway._ _

__“...What waterproof clothes do you have.” He turned all the way around, clenching and unclenching his fists uneasily. “As long as we’re quick, we’ll be fine.”_ _

__“Well for one, leather jackets,” He eyed up the virus, seeing the way spikes rippled out of the ‘clothing’, “If you could wear my actual jacket rather than just recreate it that’d offer some protection. There’s also some old raincoats and boots in the attic.” Dr Mercer rolled his eyes. “Worse comes to worse, we could just seal you in a tupperware tub for the journey. I have no doubt you could break free of that, since reinforced glass was so simple for you.”_ _

__The suggestion earned Dr. Mercer a side-eyes glance, followed by a brief pause--just long enough to stick his tongue out. He'd seen Dana do the same when she was annoyed, though not to the extent of being genuinely bothered. It was… shit, what was the word. Playful? Yeah. Either way, he said there were coats and shit in the attic, a way to avoid the rain. The attic was above them, that much he knew, even if he wasn't sure of where the entrance was._ _

__He dropped into a crouch, staring intently at the ceiling above them both as tendrils started to ripple across his legs. It seemed like the quickest way to get the rain supplies Dr. Mercer was referring to, at least to him. So he kicked off from the ground, crashing right through the roof in one swift movement and leaving a gaping hole in his wake. He steadied himself before he could jump too high up, landing on the floor just past the hole with a heavy thud. Easy enough. Now, to find the coats._ _

__… Or to get horrified stares from people he didn't recognize. Why were there people in Bitch's attic--no, this was a different apartment. There were a lot of rooms around here, it was an apartment complex. But..._ _

__"Shit."_ _

__Dr Mercer didn’t have time to try grabbing Alex before he was gone into the upstairs neighbour’s apartment. “ALEX!” He yelled, somehow surprised despite himself. “If you’re not going to kill them, get back down here. The attic is _my damn crawlspace_ , you idiot.”_ _

__"You didn't _say_ that," he snapped right back, glancing to the people he'd accidentally scared the shit out of. His biomass churned just beneath the surface, reminding him that what he had eaten the last loop hadn’t stayed. But they weren’t Gentek or Blackwatch. So, with a quick apology, he dropped back into Mercer’s apartment. The floor completely shattered upon impact this time around, though thankfully not enough to leave him dropping through. He stepped from his newly formed crater, arms crossed and head tilted despite the utter destruction he was causing everywhere he went. It was just what he was used to. Most things were already broken by the time he came around to break them, anyway._ _

__“You get the coats, I’ll listen for cops.” He brushed off the insult, more focused on survival than what Dr. Mercer thought of him. He could hear the confused and fearful whispers of the neighbors; something that was a lot easier for him to feel bad about. Poor bastards. Wasn’t their fault Dr. Mercer wasn’t specific, and that Alex was used to the top level apartment. He was a little annoyed that Mercer had immediately told him to kill them, though. He didn’t just kill random people. It wasn’t right. People only died when they wanted to kill him first, and the associates had been an accident._ _

__The scientist scoffed under his breath when Alex dropped back down, leaving his noisy neighbours quite undevoured. Seemed like they had such a _kind_ viewset, not deciding to kill everyone. Dr Mercer wasn’t keen on leaving witnesses, but he was only sharp of mind so he could hardly do the deed himself. This virus was proving to be more and more like a child- destroying everything they touched and categorically refusing to stay still. Even as they listened out for danger, they were moving subtly, swaying one minute, drumming fingers the next- just _filled_ to the brim with youthful energy. _ _

__He stepped carefully around the nearly caved in crater as wide as his hall, and fiddled with the loose ceiling panels in his room to access it, pulling out some dusty brown raincoats from years ago, when he still tried to get out somewhat, and some boots fell out as well. He neary left with just those, but after a moment’s thought grabbed one of his least favourite patterned leather jackets to add to the pile in his arms, which he promptly shoved in Alex’s general direction. The disgruntled scientist wasn’t even going to bother trying to ‘house train’ the being of pure chaos before him, at this rate. If the clothes didn’t work and the cops came, he’d just fuck around avoiding them until time rolled back. And hopefully he would be able to have the next day go better. He was pissed enough at his routine being interrupted that he’d much rather go to sleep in his wrecked room than deal with any more of this bullshit._ _

__Alex wasn’t lying--he was listening to everything around them: the cars outside, the whispering above, the creak of floorboards a few apartments away, the sound of Dr. Mercer’s footsteps against the floor, his agitated breaths. Of course he was pissed, Alex was wrecking his entire house. But it wasn’t like he was the only one frustrated. The virus felt like he was trying to navigate a maze with a blindfold, fumbling with what little memory he had to navigate the world around him in a way that didn’t put a target on his head. He turned his head as he heard Dr. Mercer’s approach, easily taking the coats and boots shoved his direction before the scientist was back off to whatever the hell he was doing. Being angry, probably. He looked down at the clothes he’d been handed, running a hand over the slick fabric._ _

__...And he frowned, furrowing his brow in frustrated confusion. What the hell was he supposed to do with these? He was supposed to wear them instead of just mimic them, but none of his memories exactly revolved around “how to put on clothes like a normal person”. And even if his creator had previously said he could ask him anything, he wasn’t going to ask. If only Dana was here. He stepped back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him so he could consume the articles of clothing. Dr. Mercer wouldn’t be able to tell, if he was careful, and he was too damn frustrated and lost to want to ask. The “clothing” layer of his biomass soon became the leather jacket, brown raincoat and rain boots, replacing what he had on flawlessly. And beneath that, on everything except his face, he shifted into his armor. There. Protection, without having to deal with Bitch’s bad mood. If he was careful, he could keep up the act._ _

__Out of the bathroom he went, the only indication that his outfit wasn’t what it seemed being his even heavier footsteps and slowed pace. He brought no attention to it, moving right to the door and forcing down the panic trying to surge in his chest. The scientist was already there, and with little more than a small nod of acknowledgement from Alex, he headed out the door. It was a quick walk. This would be fine._ _


	4. r3ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gun violence warning for the second half, after the central park scene.

r3ii

Dr Mercer didn’t show any reaction to the outfit Alex had put together, walking swiftly over the New York pavements and roads, fueled by the growing dread twisting in his stomach at the thought of how his colleagues were reacting- especially how the Intern’s tended to arrive just slightly after him. And he’d experienced quite the delay. He kept looking back at Alex over his shoulders, something seemed wrong with their attitude. “Hey, what’s the issue?” He half growled out at his doppelganger.

Alex lumbered behind Dr. Mercer at an uncharacteristically slow pace, glowering at him past the hood of the raincoat. The armor beneath the raincoat hid the way his biomass shuddered and thrashed, his whole body practically screaming that they were suffocating. He coughed and shuddered, but pressed forward, keeping quiet and firmly determined. He wouldn’t let it get the better of him. He focused on Dana, on getting her out of this time loop or whatever, and that was enough to spur him forward.

It was not enough to make him tolerant of Dr. Mercer’s bullshit. When the man growled his way, Alex bared his teeth, his tone coming out as a deadly hiss rather than the naturally quiet and vaguely confused one he so often held.

“There’s not a fucking _issue_.” Again, he had to fight his own body to keep himself under control, like the armor was a cage and his biomass was some kind of animal trying to break out. He just had to keep his cool. He didn’t need oxygen badly enough for the suffocating feeling to do too much damage. Probably. “How much farther?” 

He turned to face Alex more closely, eyes scanning him carefully. Despite Alex’s attempts to look normal, some stray tendrils escaped. Dr Mercer’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t put the clothes on, did you Alex?” He didn’t wait for a response, and instead took the topmost jacket off and rushed the virus, pulling it on and zipping it up before he could wriggle out of his grasp, before jerking his head towards central park- the nearest true place with cover. “That should hold you if you run till you reach the trees. Don’t eat it this time, you fucking goat. If you do I _will_ find a way to cram your 300lbs of stupidity into a chinese takeout box.”

Alex let out an odd mix between a growl and a yelp of surprise as Dr. Mercer came at him, the clothes layer of his form unravelling into tendrils to both reveal the armor and to try and squirm out of his creator’s grip. The second it clicked that he couldn’t feel the water through the jacket, however, he stopped dead in his tracks. Instead of trying to escape the clothes, he shifted most of his extra biomass to his center, therefore concealing them from the rain with the coat. _Much_ better. Rather than react to the insult, he just shrugged off the scientist’s grip, breaking into a full force sprint across the street and toward the park. Most of the cars came to a frantic halt as he passed, one unlucky person managing to hit him and completely dent the front of their vehicle. 

He skidded to a halt once he was beneath the familiar trees, and without much fanfare, he slumped to the ground in front of one and pulled the coat tighter to himself. He was relieved and frustrated all the same. Frustrated by how much water hurt, by how little he knew about anything. He pushed as much of his body to his center as he could, until he was just a lump of coat beneath a tree. 

In another part of New York, not far from the disguised viral coat blob, Dr. Mercer leaned on a wall, waiting for Gentek to pick up the phone. When he finally got through to the reception staff, his voice was a seething pot of irritation. He’d have to make this up quick. “”Dr Alex Mercer speaking- yes, I know I’m running late- no. send them home. I’ve got the only key. I can’t show up today- what do you _mean_ why? My fucking son just showed up, his mother- yes. Good. I don’t care.” 

He hung the phone up abruptly once the idiots let him take ‘sick leave’ for the day, and immediately dialed a number he didn’t expect to use anytime soon. “Dana.” It was curt, to the point. Her sigh through the phone and the irritated tone of her voice didn’t surprise him, and he explained the situation quickly, before hanging up. While she was going to investigate central park, he was going to snoop around Penn station. Alone.

\-----

Leave it to her _brother_ to take the hydrophobic virus out for a walk in the fucking rain. 

The shift from trying to eat an absolute abomination of food to waking up in her own apartment was… something, to say the least. But it confirmed the theory that this was some kind of sci-fi bullshit time loop. The fact there wasn’t a massive hole in her wall anymore said  
that much, as well as the notable lack of both her brothers. She’d spent her morning prying for answers, digging through news articles, a bunch of science jargon that would make Bitch swoon, whatever she could find that put an explanation to it all. The thought of Alex being alone with Bitch made her want to drag a hand down her face, but she held onto a tiny fraction of hope that he would know not to be as much of a dick to the guy. 

That hope crumbled up and died when the caller ID “Bitch-ass Brother” showed up on her phone. Once upon a time, seeing him call her would have made her ecstatic. Now, though, she was ready to bitch-slap the dumbass into using some common sense. With an umbrella over her head and a frustrated look on her face, Dana arrived at Central Park. The rain had lessened to a drizzle, but most people were hanging out on the sidewalks rather than the muddy park. She trudged through the dirt, skimming the trees before she could finally catch sight of a heap of coat, pressed against one of the trees. 

“Alex?” No response. Shit. Dana picked up the pace, positioning her umbrella over the weird blob-in-a-coat mass that was apparently Alex. She at least had her hood on. “Alex-- Hey. It’s Dana. You alright?”

The coat seemed to shudder, before a single tendril snaked out from the coat, testing the air above him for the rain. Even in his currently formless state, he could still hear the rain, but not as clearly as he could hear his sister. The heap of viral biomass made a low, rumbling noise, but as he attempted to reform, the wet grass made him jolt and sink back into the coat. He wanted to talk to his sister, to hear her out and offer what he could, but water just had to be fucking _everywhere_. How was he supposed to protect her if he couldn’t even reform? 

Dana gave a small sigh of relief when the tendril showed itself, and Alex sort of- rumbled- it was pretty surreal. A few weeks ago this sight would have left her a trembling mess, but now that she knew the truth- it was understandable. Still pretty odd to think of a writhing blob of tendrils as family, but it was what it was. She crouched down, propping the umbrella up by the tree, and pulled a small piece of tarp from her coat pocket, gently slipping it under the ridiculously heavy blob so that the damp grass didn’t soak the dry jacket cave he’d managed to find refuge in. 

“Sorry that bitch dragged you out into the rain. He never thinks about what might happen to others...” She sat down next to him, tugging her raincoat underneath her as she looked at what Alex had become. “I’ll keep you company until the weather dries off, even if you can’t exactly talk.” Dana’s tone became dark quite sharply, “Then I’m going to find that bitch and make him suffer.”

Given how she’d reacted to his other nonhuman activities, he listened to her every movement, worrying in silence about how she’d react. It was an utter relief when she merely crouched near him (he could hear the rustling of the grass), and he did what he could to let her slide something beneath him. Whatever it was, it was probably helpful, if Dana had put it there. 

She sat down beside him, and some of his form slipped out from the tight coil he’d forced himself into as he relaxed. Dana was here, and sorting shit out--knowing things--was kind of her thing. He had no complaints with her keeping him company, though her anger towards Dr. Mercer when this was technically Alex’s fault would have made him frown if he had the features to do so. The guy was a bastard, one hundred percent. He just didn’t want a fight where one wasn’t necessary. Not that he could tell Dana that at the moment, though he did make a mental note to do so when he could.

Several other tendrils slipped out from the coat, merely hanging in the air and investigating the environment as he waited for the chance to reform. One brushed by Dana, if briefly, before returning to the “coat-cave” with the others to wait out the rain. It felt like quite a long time, filled only with the occasional idle words and the sound of rain hitting leaves and the grassy ground. But like all things, it did come to an end and Dana was greeted to the horrifying sight of a human body being reconstructed before her eyes.

Alex was on his feet the second he had legs to do so, tendrils snapping into place and shifting colors to give him skin, clothes, and all the necessary pieces for a human appearance. He had returned to his default outfit, the hoodie and leather jacket, though the one Dr. Mercer had given him remained in place. It was still… strange to have on, restricting his movements but comfortable at the same time. Didn’t matter. Dana was here. He offered a hand to help her up, his perpetual scowl relaxing into something far more gentle, as it often did when he was around her. She was his sister, after all.

“It’s not Bitch’s fault.” Nothing remained of the aggression he’d given his creator, his voice quiet but earnest and determined in nature. “I… think we should find him, but don’t give him too much shit. He gave me a raincoat, I just didn’t know what to do with it.” He concluded with a small, awkward shrug. A pause, followed by a quick, “Thanks. For the company.” 

Dana shook off the surprise she’d felt at the reforming process after a long moment, when Alex’s face relaxed and he started his quiet, careful mumbling observations once more. “It was no problem,” She smiled at him, “Do you want to go rest at the apartment while I find him? It shouldn’t take me too long- I’ve known him for my whole life after all.”

He considered it for a moment. If he was in Dana’s apartment, he’d be out of the rain. But what if something happened to her? He didn’t exactly trust Dr. Mercer to be able to provide the necessary help if Blackwatch came for her. Even though there… wasn’t any Blackwatch around. Maybe he’d rest for a few minutes, then take to the rooftops once the rain was assured to be gone. Keep an eye on the area for her. Yeah, that worked. After a long moment of pondering, he nodded. 

“As long as you’re careful.” 

Dana nodded, and after making sure he got inside safely, set off for Penn Station. She had a brother to find, and when she did… He would have hell to pay, especially if he didn’t realise what he’d done.

\----

Dr Mercer, unaware of his vengeful sibling, was taking a break leaning by the entrance to Penn Station, illegible notebook scribbles occupying his attention fully. Not even the eb and flow of the rapid crowds mere feet from him could distract him, he was so deeply engrossed in his thoughts. Thoughts of the nature of time travel, of the sentience of Blacklight, of all the little curiosities he’d encountered and of course, of who could be looking over his hunched shoulders at these ideas laid out in his scientific scrawl onto sheets after sheets of damp paper in his small spiral notebook.

For once, however, Dr. Mercer’s fear that his shoulder was being looked over was justified. Only the person eyeing him had absolutely zero interest in any of his illegible scrawlings. She watched, waiting for him to realize she was there, eyeing the movements of his pencil across the notebook. And when his writing came to a pause, Dana took her closed umbrella and whacked her stupid brother upside the head. She backed away before he could retaliate--not that she couldn’t kick his ass, really--greeting him with crossed arms and a glare that could cut metal.

“Hey, _asshole_.” She snapped, raising an eyebrow as she looked over her disaster of a brother. “How about I realize you have an obvious fear of something, and then drag your ass into the middle of it because my head’s too far up my ass to consider it. Are you fucking _kidding_ me, Alex?” 

The umbrella was very effective at smacking him out of his reverie, and he jolted back with a curse, hooded head smacking against the wall. He rubbed his jaw, glaring down at his sister. Figures she’d be the one to try and hold him accountable for something like that. He was already on edge waiting for Blackwatch to show up and come after him for the missing virus, and she comes and assaults him with an umbrella? Did she have _any_ idea what was going on here? “Fuck you.” He muttered lowly, not able to think up a suitable response while he was still dazed.

She rolled her eyes. It’d be a good few minutes before the bastard actually got his shit together, knowing him--she’d interrupted his train of thought. The thing that could get him so deeply buried in whatever the hell he was up to that he’d forget to eat. Or sleep. Or, y’know, most of the things necessary for basic survival. When she was younger, she’d hold off until he was back together. But right now she was cold, damp, and pissed, so patience wasn’t really her strongest virtue. She stepped closer, brows creased in furious determination. God. She’d gotten so used to Alex, she’d forgotten how much of a _bitch_ her real brother was. She wanted to be happy he was alright, but then he goes and pulls this fucking shit. Classic Alex. 

“That all you have to say for yourself? Because that’s a pretty shitty excuse.” Dana drummed her fingers against her arm, casting him a dark glare. “Would it kill you not to be a dick to someone? Because honestly, I’m not really sure at this point.” Something shifted in her expression at her own words, however--a flicker of sadness in her eyes that was obscured as she glanced away.

He straightened up, used to these sorts of insults from everyone, and crushed beneath his mental heel the small part of him that was hurt by it coming from Dana, face twisting to his usual dark look. “I did _try_ to help him,” he hissed out, “But is this really the place you want to talk about such matters?” His eyes were focused not on her but on the members of the crowd just past their little alcove. Who could be listening to this? Was Blackwatch here already? He couldn’t tell. The security guards clearly hadn’t seen Dana attack him, so they were hidden, but this was still dangerously public.

“Yeah, you tried to help him. Believe me, it’s the first thing he said after he stopped _hiding_.” She made sure there was extra venom in that final word. “And you didn’t bother thinking that, I don’t know, he might actually not know what the fuck you were talking about? Jesus _Christ_ , Alex.” She ran a hand down her face, but the mention of this not being the place was like gasoline over the fire of how angry she was. 

“Because THAT’S your focus right now! God, I forgot how much of a SHITHEAD you are!” She snarled, backing away to stay out of his face--she didn’t want to be near him right now. Five years worth of frustration came pouring out before she could stop it, fists clenched at her sides and blue eyes blazing. “What’s the right place, then, Alex?! When’s the right time, another _five years_?! It’s now or never with you, and most of the fucking time, it’s NEVER. It’s until you end up dead on the goddamn streets because you can’t be assed to let ANYONE in!” 

Tears had begun to form in her eyes, but she wiped them away with the sleeve of her hoodie. Another step back, before she wrapped herself in a hug, squeezing her eyes shut.

“...It’s _whatever_. Not like you’re even _listening_ , right?” 

He grit his teeth, fingers digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood as his idiot sister ranted, loud and clear. He could see some dark uniformed figures moving to talk to the security guards, he had only moments. His arm shot out, half picking Dana up and he shoved her deeper into the small darkness behind him, stepping out slightly to give her some space.

“The right time,” He muttered, meeting her gaze fully despite the threat he could practically feel taking aim at him, “Is when we’re not in the middle of thousands of spectators. _They’re always watching._ ” 

He stepped back, and the thin line of his mouth matched with the faintest dampness to his eyes told more than his tone ever could. Then he turned fully around, breaking into a dead sprint. He barely made it out of the crowd before gunfire sprayed out, loud and abrasive. Within moments, his chest was emptied of everything it should have, and he fell down, light fading from his eyes as red carpeted the ground.

\----

One moment, she was clawing at her brother’s arm, hissing swears and demanding he put her the fuck down. When he did, she only glared, her expression a clear display of, ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’

The next, her brother was dead. 

She had run after him when he sprinted off; of course she had, she wasn’t letting him run off and leave her alone again. She barely managed to skid to a halt as the guns raised, ducking for cover behind a wall. And then he was gone. He dropped to the concrete, his own blood painting the area around him. Someone screamed--was it her? Blood, Jesus fucking Christ there was so much blood. The screaming ceased, and she was running, running with every ounce of adrenaline she had. The world was a blur of motion and noise, shouts and cars and flesh being torn all becoming a cacophony of nonsense as she sprinted down the sidewalk. Alex was dead. Alex was dead. No, no, fuck no, this wasn’t happening, this--

A massive claw scooped her up from the ground. She swore aloud (was it her? Was it someone else? Everything was so fucking blurry), bashing her fists against biomass over and over with frantic, anguished cries. She didn’t stop her assault even as the world stopped rushing by them, nor when she was in the safehouse, being pried off her captor and set on the couch with an impossible degree of gentleness. Then the captor was pulling her close, as though she was made of glass and could shatter at any moment. The scent of leather, long since faded coffee, and decay hit her, just as a quiet and frightened voice broke through the nonsense pounding in her head.

“Dana? Dana, it’s okay. You’re safe. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” 

Alex. A moment of childish hope flared up in her, but it dropped as quickly as her brother had on the street. Alex, but not the one she’d known all her life. Her brother, but not her brother. Alex J. Mercer was dead. She just wanted to understand. She just wanted the Alex she knew back. She hadn’t meant for him to die. 

Twice. This was the second time her brother had been shot dead. 

“ _GOD FUCKING DAMMIT_!”

Dana buried her face in the virus’ chest, and began to sob. 

\----

Dana didn’t know how long it’d been. Minutes? Hours? Maybe days? She didn’t give a shit. She’d eventually run out of tears to cry, and told Alex to leave her alone for a moment. A blanket had been pulled over her--probably his doing. A plate of food, no, several plates of food were set at the foot of the couch, untouched and undoubtedly cold by now. Each one was as much an abomination as the Nutella spaghetti, but even that couldn’t make her smile now.

She rolled over, exhaling slowly as she pulled the blanket closer. Every time she blinked, she could see him. His body shredded like paper. Most of his torso gone. His blood painting the sidewalk. Her brother, the bastard who’d practically raised her, who’d been her role model and entire world when she was a kid. 

“Fuck,” she muttered, resting a hand over her eyes to avoid looking at her apartment. Alex was probably standing nearby, watching, waiting to see if she was alright. She didn’t want to see him. She couldn’t see him without seeing her brother. Maybe she’d told him that at some point--god, she hoped not. Alex took everything she said to heart. She thought about picking at the food he’d made her, but the thought of eating anything made her nauseous.

She glanced up at the clock on tewall. Alex hadn’t bothered turning the lights off. 11:57.

This wasn’t what she’d wanted. She wanted to help him.

11:58.

Fuck Blackwatch. Fuck everything they stood for.

11:59.

She’d make those fuckers pay.

00:00.

And she had all the time in the world. As darkness smothered the world, a grim smile crossed her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Core here: turns out being nice did kill him! Oops. Things are picking up now >:3


	5. r4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you know basic lab safety, this will not be a fun chapter. on that account alone. but!

Glass on all sides. Formless. Alex was back in the test tube, but that was the least of his problems. The scent of Gentek scientists was heavy in the air, but there was no Dr. Mercer. The associates he’d consumed were here, though, he could tell. Which meant the bastard had to be alive. He had to be. 

Alex reduced the glass to a pile of shards in a matter of seconds, and before the scientists there could even begin to scream, he was running. Alarms blared, security officers shouted and readied their weapons, but he was too quick for them. He went right out the door of Gentek, ignoring the rain and shouts and the scent of Blackwatch as he leaped over the concrete wall. Up the side of the nearest building, he kicked off into a glide, soaring over the streets of Manhattan. 

Big glass building, one he got blown up in, that was what he was looking for. Shouldn’t he have had a strike team on him by now? Whatever. Didn’t matter. Just around the corner. He dropped from his glide to a rooftop, still sprinting, and kicked off just as he hit the edge. Back to a glide, just enough of one to send him crashing directly through the window and onto the living room floor.

The virus was back on his feet in a matter of seconds, and as though he’d lived here his entire life, headed right for the scientist’s bedroom. He grabbed the doorknob, only to rip the entire door off its hinges. He tossed it aside--problem for later--and stepped into the room. Dr. Mercer wasn’t in sight, but the hushed sound of his breathing and the focus of his scent directed Alex to the massive pile of blankets on the bed. The tension drained from him in an instant, and he gave the quietest sigh of relief. Dana would be even more so than him when he told her, but she didn’t want to be bothered right now. Later. 

He stepped to the edge of the bed, movements silenced by a careful distribution of biomass (he’d probably made more than enough noise for today). He hesitated for a moment, before resting his hand on the mound of blankets, a touch that could barely be felt through all the layers.

“Bi-” He started, but cut himself off, pondering for a moment. Probably not the best time for nicknames, huh. “...Alex? Are you okay.” 

The form hidden under the blankets stiffened in response to the touch, curling tighter in on itself. A quiet voice, lacking the usual venomous sarcasm or insulting lilt, spoke from within. “Just- fuck off...”

Alex pulled his hand away, frowning a bit to himself. If he didn’t want bothered, he didn’t want bothered. There wasn’t much he could do about that. However, if yesterday said anything, it was way too fucking dangerous to leave him alone. From the looks of it, Alex wouldn’t be convincing the scientist to get to the safehouse any time soon, either. So with a heavy thunk, he plopped on the ground next to the bed. There. He was fucking off, but he could still keep watch. He rested his head on his hand, watching the mound of blankets Dr. Mercer had buried himself in without a word. 

For a long moment, Dr. Mercer was silent. Alex was still here. Did he even get the concept of fucking off? Probably not. Blackwatch would be following him. Cops too. He grit his teeth, and the memory of seeing his chest break apart like an old china plate came back to him vividly. How many times would he relive that while Alex followed him like a lost puppy? The air within the blanket pile was heavy and warm, heated by his too quick breath and the fearful shivers he’d barely managed to shove down. He gathered enough breath to talk, tried to steady his voice, add some weak bark to it- “Leave. I don’t want you here.” 

I know what fuck off means, he wanted to comment, but decided against it under the circumstance. Dr. Mercer had been clear the first time, even clearer this round. So he stood, mumbled a quick apology, and stepped out the door. Only to sit down just in front of the doorway, on top of the door itself due to breaking it earlier. He could tell Alex to leave as many times as he wanted, it wasn’t happening. He could easily take on Blackwatch if they came by, but that wouldn’t happen if he left. So, the most obvious thing to do was to stay.

Alex tried to keep his focus on the situation at hand, but it was easy for his mind to wander. Maybe it had to do with the fact he knew what it’d felt like. Dying. He remembered Dr. Mercer’s last moments, in more perfect detail than he remembered anything else. The fire in his chest as the bullets hit their mark, shredding him. Everything going black before he even hit the ground, the pain still there when he woke in the morgue. He held his head in his hands as he thought it over, exhaling slowly to steady himself as tendrils rippled up his back. 

He lingered for a moment, before pulling out his phone--or, at least, the biomass copy of Dr. Mercer’s phone. Why radios and phones still worked was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to question it. Dana’s contact was the only one relevant to him, but once he’d hit call, it went right to voicemail. Shit. There went any hope of asking her for advice, but she wasn’t exactly in the state to help him. As the phone beeped, however, a thought came to mind. 

Would Dr. Ragland still be at the hospital morgue? 

“Dana. It’s Alex. He’s alright. I’m gonna keep an eye on him.” A pause. “Stay in the safehouse. I’ll be back soon.” With that, he pressed the button to hang up, and tucked the phone back in his pocket. Why didn’t he think of Ragland earlier? He glanced back to where Dr. Mercer was still bundled up, and contemplated it for a moment. It was raining outside, again, and he’d made it clear he didn’t want to be bothered. The virus narrowed his eyes. No, this was too serious to heed the scientist’s words. Besides, Ragland’s morgue was a hell of a lot safer than the apartment.

Alex stepped back into the bedroom, the floor creaking under his weight. And, without any warning, he scooped up Dr. Mercer and his many blankets. The scientist swore under his breath, and pulled his cocoon tighter around him in response. Seems like Alex was determined to do… something. He had accepted his fate at this point, and counted the single blessing that keeping the blanket pile was. At least no one would see him.

Aside from the swearing, Dr. Mercer didn’t seem to have any objections. Good. Making sure he had a firm grip on the blanket burrito that was his creator, Alex jumped out the window. The rainfall was as awful as ever, but he shoved thoughts about it aside. Across the street and up the nearest building he went yet again, this time making his way to the edge of Manhattan. 

He couldn’t glide with the scientist in his arms, so the journey was much slower than he liked, but what mattered was that he got there. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, and slowed his pace to a more human level sprint as he scoured the halls for Dr. Ragland. His scent was in the air, he was nearby--there. In an office (it wasn’t like there were any Blacklight infected bodies to investigate yet). Rather than breaking through the door, he stepped away from it, trying to ignore the way every breath he took was labored.

“--Ragland?” He fought to keep his voice steady, but the usual rasp to it was harsher than normal, panic coming out as aggression. He held Dr. Mercer closer in a desperate attempt to keep himself together. “Ragland.” 

The doctor opened the door to his office, and when he realised exactly who was standing there, his eyes narrowed. “Mercer?” his gaze flicked to the humanoid lump in the blankets, and he crossed his arms. “I’ve told you before, no. This doesn’t change if you’ve stolen one from elsewhere.” 

If this were anyone else, Alex might have snapped at him, purely on account of how much he was struggling to function at the moment. But this was Ragland, and he didn’t know him yet, he knew Dr. Mercer.

“I’m not--” He had to stop to inhale sharply, a shudder running through him that caused a full body ripple of tendrils as he struggled to maintain his structure. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to continue. “...I’m not Alex Mercer. This is. I need--fuck--I need your help.” To prove his point, he held the lump of blankets outward, inviting the doctor to investigate if he wanted to. 

The doctor gave him a strange look, and noted the tendrils. That wasn’t usual at all- was he hallucinating? Alex certainly seemed to be, enough to dissociate completely from his sense of self. He’d probably found something new. Gingerly, he laid the blanket pile on the floor of his office, not turning away from Alex fully for a moment. 

He unwrapped the layers, eyebrows creasing with the sound of breathing that got louder. Had he kidnapped some poor soul? Then, finally, he pulled back the final layer and was greeted by a tired looking, grumpy double. Right down to the significantly more creased clothes. Then the double took one of the layers he’d just removed and pulled it over his face with a grunt. 

Ragland shot Alex- or perhaps his doppelganger- a very sharp look. “Explain.”

Alex didn’t respond. Instead, he staggered backward a few steps, swearing between rapid breaths. Now that Dr. Mercer was in safe hands, his adrenaline was gone, but how the feeling of suffocating remained. He swayed, before giving out entirely, dropping to the ground in an unconscious heap. 

The second he made contact with the floor, however, instinct went to work. His body completely unraveled, leaving a blob of black and red tendrils that began spreading across the hallway to increase surface area. The less water in one spot, the quicker it would evaporate, or so the mass of Blacklight now covering the hallway seemed to think. Despite the open door, however, the virus avoided the office, settling in the hallway to try and dry off. 

Dr Mercer cracked an eye open, tilting his head to look out into the hallway. He huffed lightly through his nose, and muttered in the oddly quiet voice that was left after he’d exhausted most of his feelings trying to cope with his own death, “He’s just drying off. Don’t worry.”

“...So he is.” There was a lot that could be asked about Dr. Mercer’s companion, but with his determination to bring the other here, Ragland put his attention there first. He kneeled next to the scientist, looking over his exhausted form with a slight raise of his brow. “In the meantime... you don’t exactly look too well yourself, Mercer. Any idea why he might have brought you here?” 

Dr. Mercer didn’t bother getting up, just readjusted the face hiding blanket piece with an irritated sigh, “I fucking died yesterday. He seems intent on getting me to… Feel better.” The angry tone trailed off for a moment, blank confusion taking its place, but the aggressiveness soon returned. “How the fuck he found you, I don’t know.” 

“I’m sorry, you died yesterday?” The doctor didn’t say anything else on it, however, despite the slight furrow of his brow. Instead, he took a seat on the ground next to Dr. Mercer, glancing between him and the viral mass currently coating his hallway. “However he found me, from the sound of it, he was right to bring you here. That’s quite the claim.”

“Guess so.” Dr. Mercer let a dark chuckle escape his lips, and pushed the blanket off his face to meet his pathologist friend’s eyes. “Would you believe me if I said this is the fourth time it’s been today?”

“I’m afraid you already know the answer to that.” Even so, Ragland’s expression remained calm and collected, lacking any indication of disbelief or belief despite the situation. He leaned back somewhat as the scientist finally revealed his face, in all his red-eyed and tear stained glory. The slightest furrow of his brow revealed his concern, but he continued despite it. “I’m more than willing to listen, however, if you want to explain.” 

“I’ve explained enough,” Dr. Mercer grumbled, and started to restore his cocoon status, voice getting progressively more muffled. “If you want to know more, bother Alex. He looks drier. I’m going back to sleep.” To finish it off, the blanket lump rolled onto its side, facing away from Ragland.

Alex had come back to not long after he’d shifted forms, though he hadn’t moved--half to let Ragland and Dr. Mercer talk without interference, half so he could listen to them. It was enough for him to catch the cue from the scientist; he reformed in a swirl of tendrils moments after he was called on. If he could stop getting rained on, that’d be fucking great. 

He scowled, but it faded into something far less harsh the moment he laid eyes on Ragland. The last time he’d seen the pathologist before now, it was to leave Dana in his care after the Leader Hunter’s attack. Not a good memory by any means, but it established just how much he could trust the man in front of him. Rolling his shoulders to make sure everything was back in place, he managed an awkward wave for Dr. Ragland.

“...There’s a lot to explain.” Yeah, that just about summarized it. 

“Alright.” Ragland got to his feet, eyeing Alex over. “Perhaps you could begin with explaining-” He gestured to the entirety of Alex, “How your specific situation came about?”

He went quiet for a moment, contemplating how to summarize three weeks worth of events in a way that didn’t involve time travel, stolen bodies, an apocalypse, or nuclear weapons. Might as well just give him the basic rundown of what he was--not like he’d remember, if Dr. Mercer’s first few loops were any evidence. As with any good explanation of events, he started it off with a small shrug. 

“I’m not human.” It was easy to say to Cross--he knew the whole story by the time Alex was reflecting, and it hadn’t even actually been Cross. Something about telling Ragland made it hit differently, though. It was harder to say, harder to think about. “You know about… Alex’s work, I’m guessing. You two seem to know each other, so... I’m his work. I just look like him because I picked his form, or something.” A fact he didn’t need to prove, given the fact he’d been nothing but a shapeless mass mere moments ago. 

The doctor’s eyebrows rose into his hairline as Alex continued speaking, but he didn’t interrupt, or question it. “And you’re alright with this situation?” He hurried to correct his wording, realising that implied he could exactly change it. “You act kinder than many humans, you’ve got just as much of a claim to humanity as any of us.” His gaze lingered on the tense blanket pile in the corner for a long moment. 

The mention of “this situation” spurred his standard look of confusion, a look that only deepened as Ragland explained. It was a good moment before he could respond, staring down at the floor with a furrowed brow. It... wasn’t an approach he’d considered before. He wasn’t human, he was the virus that infected most of Manhattan. He would be that virus, anyway, when time stopped looping. Something surged in his chest that he couldn’t place. Relief? Joy? Just more confusion? It was a weird cluster of all of them, and ultimately, he shook it off. He didn’t get it, so he wouldn’t dwell on that. Maybe ask Dana, or Ragland after the situation with Dr. Mercer was figured out. 

“Huh.” It was all he offered, but for a split second, he smiled. Of which only seemed to confuse him more, if the way he rubbed his face right after said anything. To clear his mind, he motioned to the blanket cocoon on the ground, changing the topic entirely. “Any idea how we can help him?”

Ragland looked at the cocoon for a moment, before shaking his head with a small smile. “I’m afraid, until he decides he’s ready, he’ll likely remain like that. Dr. Mercer is a stubborn man on a good day, he’s nigh impossible to work with on a bad day- which if he’s convinced of his death, today certainly counts.” He looked to the worried young virus before him, and offered Alex a gentle, reassuring smile. “The best thing for him currently isn’t medicine, or conversation, but rest. Perhaps you could do him a favour and substitute for him at his work…?”

Alex visibly perked up at the suggestion--he could do that. Playing a role was what he did the entirety of the apocalypse, bouncing between disguises and identities to get through to the next day. The fact he hadn’t consumed Dr. Mercer (well, while he was alive, he supposed) would make things slightly more complicated, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He nodded, a little quicker than he actually intended. 

“That wouldn’t be hard.” That, and if he could separate some of his biomass, he could stop what was probably a facility-wide panic about the missing bioweapon. Probably not a good thing to mention. “I know how to get there. Can he stay here? His apartment is…” A pause, “not great right now. So it’d be better if he was here.” 

Dr. Mercer responded by chucking a keychain in Alex’s general direction, and his muffled voice followed, terse information rattling off his tongue. “Key to the lab’s the one with red tape around it. Just play around with the equipment, I don’t care what you do if they don’t realise you’ve escaped. I’ll go behind the couch.” He stood up awkwardly, and stumbled over the room to hide himself like he was just a messy pile of fabric. Ragland’s security camera was broken so he had no issues with placing himself there. The pathologist just looked exasperated, like he was used to this, but didn’t stop Dr. Mercer.

Despite the careless nature of the throw, Alex caught it with ease, dangling the keychain with a slight tilt of his head. Yeah, definitely not a good time to point out his very noisy escape from Gentek earlier. He watched Dr. Mercer fumble his way over to the couch, and ultimately, all he cared about was whether or not pretending to be him would actually help. For the most part, that seemed to be a yes. He glanced to one of the clocks, before swearing under his breath--he was late. Not that he couldn’t close the distance quickly, but still. 

With a small nod to Ragland, he stepped back into the hall, and began to make his way back to the door. Laying in the floor of the hallway, however, was Dr. Mercer’s jacket--the same one he’d let Alex wear the day before. It must have fallen from his biomass when he was drying off, but considering the way everything reset… he’d sort it out later. Scooping up the jacket, he pulled it on (he wasn’t going to complain about protection from the rain), and headed out the door. 

He’d thought he was Alex Mercer for three weeks, and even now, he struggled to think that he wasn’t. How hard could this be? 

____________________

Some sprinting, rooftop running and gliding later, and Alex was outside of Gentek. Where he was made, and where he'd first woken up. The last time he'd been to this building with the intent of going inside, it'd been to release Elizabeth Greene, as monumental of a mistake that was. This time, his only goal was to play the role of Dr. Mercer until work ended, with the sole purpose of making sure no one realized Blacklight had escaped this morning. And, by extension, making sure no one thought Dr. Mercer was to blame.

Which would have been a hell of a lot easier, if the place wasn’t already crawling with Blackwatch. Go figure. Instinctively, he tugged his hood further down as he passed, avoiding their gazes. Half because he didn’t want spotted; half because just looking at them made the urge to consume nearly unbearable. He’d spent a fuck ton of energy the last couple of days, more than he should have, and it had him on edge. Even so, the soldiers didn’t pay him so much as a glance as he slipped into the building. For better or for worse.

Alex had just begun squinting against the bright lights when an associate nearly barreled into him. They let out an odd, squeaky yelp when they saw his face, pressing their clipboard to their chest and swallowing hard. He only gave them a confused look, even as they began rambling.

“D- Dr. Mercer! Sir, we--we’re sorting the situation right now, I assure you! All evidence--it suggests that Blacklight wasn’t stolen, I mean- you have the only key to the lab- which, which is good, but it doesn’t explain, explain what we saw on the--”

“Blacklight wasn’t stolen. It’s right where we left it.” His tone was quiet but firm, and before the associate could react, he was walking down the hall towards where he remembered the lab being. Scientists rushed about around him, the scent of Gentek in general making him have to fight not to grimace. Not to mention the sheer number of both Gentek and Blackwatch around, if his thermal vision was anything to go off of. The place was crawling with them. Knowing he was undercover kept him from externalizing any of his unease, but it settled like an anchor in his chest, multiplying the urge to consume tenfold. 

He pulled Dr. Mercer’s lab coat off a hook outside the lab, and after a moment’s delay, pulled down his hood. The jacket took the coat’s place on the rack, and he pulled the coat over one arm while unlocking the door with the other. He had an idea--a way to deal with the fact he was Dr. Mercer right now, not Blacklight. But he had to be quick. Shoving Dr. Mercer’s keychain in the coat pocket, he slipped into the room, closing the door with a quick kick. To the lab table he went, grabbing an empty vial and flicking off the lid. 

His body writhed at the thought of losing biomass right now, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. He flicked his wrist, forming a short claw from one of his fingers. He grabbed a stray curl with the opposite hand, and with one swift movement accompanied by a wince, he severed the strand from his biomass. It began to deform almost immediately, but not before he could slip it in the vial. He turned to face the door just as the associate from earlier stepped through--and before they could even get a word in, he held up the vial. 

“See?” He shook it a couple times as proof, but the brief look of horror on their face said he should probably not shake the deadly virus. He stuck it on a nearby test tube rack, watching the associate mumble nervously under their breath before heading over to one of the other stations. The rest of the Blacklight team soon followed, greeting him with a small nod or quick “Dr. Mercer” before heading off to do their own work. So this was the team that made him, people of all sorts of backgrounds and identities working to make the very thing that would nearly destroy all of Manhattan. The thought made him scowl. Sure, they wouldn’t be able to get anything done if time kept looping. But eventually, it was going to be October. Eventually, Dr. Mercer was going to release the virus. If tomorrow looped again, nothing he did today would matter.

If tomorrow wasn’t a loop again… maybe he could put a little delay in Gentek’s plans. Subtly, as to keep them from hunting Dr. Mercer down, but he could work with that. Glancing to the associates, he searched around the table until he could find the paperwork. Years of research, careful observations of the Blacklight virus. It was hard to see where you were going if you didn’t know where you’d been. Glancing around to make sure none of the associates were watching him, he started crumbling up the papers, a few smaller tendrils on his abdomen allowing him to consume the wads of paper as though they had never existed. 

What else could he do--taint the equipment. Alex grabbed as many beakers and test tubes as he could, ignoring the raised brows from the ones working with him. He dumped them on a different table, then stepped back to the associates. He grabbed whatever was closest to him on their tables, not bothering to investigate what they could be and ignoring the frantic whispers as he carelessly handled every chemical he got his hands on. Back to the table of random containers he went. Only… half of these would explode, right? He could handle an explosion. Well, only one way to find out. Separating his assortment of containers, he started to open up the chemicals, dumping them into the containers with little more reaction than a slight furrow of his brow. 

One of the associates, a younger looking woman, accidentally let a strangled yell escape her lips when her superior grabbed several different degreasing agents, bleaches, and the agar mix that was still setting from yesterday and started mixing them together without care for any lab safety. She could see some of her coworkers subtly thumb dialing what was probably Blackwatch or the police, but she’d been the one to respond aloud so she had to continue. She didn’t dare get closer, but said, in the dizzy tone of someone seeing pure horror unfold, “Dr. Mercer- what are you doing?” 

Alex looked up from his concoction, steely gaze meeting that of the woman who’d cried out. What would Dr. Mercer do? Probably be an asshole. He also probably wouldn’t be sabotaging his own work, but whatever. He set two of the chemicals aside, just so he could cross his arms and narrow his eyes. There were some perks to your confused face always looking aggressive.

“What does it look like?” He motioned to the array of chemicals in front of himself, watching everyone in the room grimace as he nearly knocked some of them over. “I’m testing Blacklight’s endurance.” Which wasn’t entirely wrong, if he made something explode in his face. “I don’t see the problem. Blacklight’s repulsed by water, too. Which this will fix.” 

Someone in a far corner, fiddling with the window from on top of a chair, muttered under their breath, “Can’t take it out of the vial until we’ve got the quarantine room set up, though...” 

“Quarantine room my ass,” he muttered, recalling the way Dr. Mercer had smashed the vial without a care in the world. But then, an idea came to mind. A horrible idea for any human, but one that didn’t mean shit to him. If they weren’t going to let him sabotage, then fine. Alex stepped away from the table, moving instead to grab the vial of Blacklight off the test tube rack. He moved to the center of the room, making sure he was in full view of everyone around him as a chaotic grin spread across his face.

“It’s just Blacklight. What’s the worst that could happen.” He flicked off the lid of the vial with his finger, swirling the contents for a moment. “Just watch.” And with that, he brought the vial to his lips, threw his head back, and poured the contents in his mouth. 

At the same instant, several things happened at once. The employees, though some were initially frozen by shock, ran to the freshly opened window and kept running across the concrete ground. The door was thrown open, and several uniformed- though not armored- Blackwatch soldiers rushed in. The commander was stuck still for a moment, undeniable horror crossing his face as he saw the situation. The employees- gone. Containers- bubbling, some exploding behind Dr Mercer. Dr Mercer- smirking like he didn’t just down a deadly bioweapon like sherbet soda.

Well, that was a major setback if he’d ever seen one. The employees were on the run, and the door was kicked open, and he tossed the now empty vial behind him, all traces of Blacklight absorbed back into him. The moment of amusement and delight didn’t last, however, when he realized just who was in here now. He turned sharply, smile fading to a snarl as he took a few steps away. One of those bastards called Blackwatch on him? Not to say he was surprised, but… fuck, he was hungry. He avoided looking at them entirely, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Aside from a muttered, “shit,” he held his tongue, listening to their every movement as he looked away. 

They just needed to stay over there. He wouldn’t have a reason to tear them apart if they just left him alone. 

“Dr. Mercer.” The commander spoke, sharply, but he didn’t seem surprised. He was ready to do what he had to, but procedure would keep those steps at bay for a small while. “I’m going to need you to confirm some personal information. First, your birth date.”

Alex pressed himself against the wall, trying to shake the memory of the morgue from his mind--being gunned down by Blackwatch soldiers, even if he’d survived. What was Dr. Mercer’s birthday? He didn’t know. Right now, he didn’t care. The urge to consume that he’d been fighting off so aggressively before now was unbearable, blurring his thoughts and making it harder and harder to ignore the Blackwatch in front of him. He clenched his fists, exhaling slowly. He needed to consume. 

...Fuck it. Better to consume Blackwatch than people he didn’t want to hurt when he couldn’t control himself anymore. Alex rushed forward, grabbing the commander by the throat and pulling him up from the ground. He didn’t give the man time to struggle, driving his fist right into his chest. The second the opening was made, tendrils tore through the non-biomass lab coat, wrapping around the commander and tearing him apart to be properly consumed. Before he was even done and the memories started flooding his head, he waved his arms, forming both sets of claws so he could tear through the remaining Blackwatch units. 

This was something Alex understood. Throwing his enemies in the air so he could slice them in half, crushing flesh and bone like it was nothing in a solid grip, shredding through everything around him like paper. Most were consumed, others left on the ground in shreds. He could hear boots against the floor from where he stood; reinforcements, trying to figure out why no one was answering their call. He stepped away from the door, taking the form of the fallen commander , the lab coat’s remains getting caught up in the mess of shifting biomass. They’d be killed just as swiftly as the others, and he knew that for a fact.

This was what he was made for. Whether he liked it or not.

____________________________

Far away from the chaos, several hours later, Dr. Mercer slept on the floor of Ragland’s office, swamped in blankets. Rest had indeed helped him to calm down, but the comforting presence of his close friend, working mere feet from him did more to help him. He shifted in the heavy pile, contemplating getting up, but he’d managed to find a comfortable position so he just stared blankly at the wall, taking in the bland patterns with bleary eyes.

The quiet peace of the two doctors was only temporary, however--if the sound of heavy footsteps just outside the door said anything. The door swung open, and in stepped Alex, in his usual attire with his hands in the pockets of his leather coat. He pulled one hand out, before tossing the keychain to Dr. Mercer, aiming for the floor so he didn’t do any accidental damage. 

“Work’s over.” He commented, before turning away, focused very intensely on one of the walls with his standard confusion. In reality, he was listening for Dr. Mercer, waiting to see his reaction so he could go from there. 

Ragland gave Alex a small wave of greeting, but was busy typing up some kind of report so he couldn’t exactly get tea and biscuits out for the guest. Dr. Mercer, on the other hand, had no such restraints and pushed himself so his head stuck out from behind the sofa, and looked Alex over. He was still in the freshly woken up sleepy state of someone with 0 energy, but his gaze was sharp as he looked at the perfectly normal copy of himself. He expected the worst, honestly, but he’d have to hear to find out, “So. How was it?”

Dr. Ragland got a small nod in return, but Alex’s attention was quickly shifted to his creator. He moved over to the couch, seemingly unbothered by Dr. Mercer’s decision to merely peer out from behind it as he crouched in front of him. He looked back to Ragland, then faced Mercer again, brow furrowed and lips drawn in a tight frown. He was awake, good. Alex wasn’t exactly one to beat around the bush when it came to explanations, so he blurted out the first thing he thought (even if he had to fumble past the sheer number of memories bouncing around in his head to do it).

“--What do you normally do at work? They didn’t think me drinking from the vial was anything weird, or mixing chemicals.” A pause, as though he was thinking on it, consulting his own mind. “They’re used to that kind of shit from you. I want to know why.”

Dr. Mercer blinked once. Twice. Then, horrified surprise barely hidden behind acidic tone, he finally managed to put a sentence together. “What vial.”

Frustration briefly overtook Alex’s confused concern, as though there was only one vial and Dr. Mercer should have known that, but it faded as quickly as it had come. “The vial of Blacklight. They were talking about bullshit safety precautions they wouldn’t even actually use, so I drank the Blacklight.” Last moments of confusion, a lack of surprise but also horror at Dr. Mercer drinking the bioweapon flicked into his mind, and he shook his head to clear it. “It was just a small piece of biomass.” 

“You drank- okay. Okay.” Dr. Mercer closed his eyes for a moment, an expression indicative of his thoughts coming to a nails on chalkboard halt. “I’m- not usually that bad.” He pointedly ignored Ragland’s quiet huff at his statement, “We do actually use safety precautions, though.”

The virus stood, exhaling through his teeth. He paced in a quick circle, before crouching down again, rubbing his face with a look of worry better suited for the one who didn’t drink the vial of bioweapon. Maybe not that bad. But he had memories to say it was bad, and the huff he heard loud and clear didn’t help that much. Well, if he knew anything now, it was that Dr. Mercer was very much the kind of person who would smash a vial of a deadly bioweapon in Penn Station. 

“Other than that,” he mumbled, shifting the topic sheerly on the account of having no clue what to say, “work was okay. Most of the scientists fled the scene, and I consumed most of the Blackwatch there.” 

Although he was grateful for the topic shift from his past behaviours, the direction it took was nearly as unwelcome. “Most?” Dr. Mercer straightened up into a sitting position, though the rats nest’s hair and slightly crooked glasses ruined the seriousness of the moment, “Were there witnesses?”

“No.” Another feeling, adding to the flood of them he was keeping below the surface--frustration again. Frustration at the fact he had been killing Blackwatch and Infected for his entire life, and Dr. Mercer was doubting his ability to do it right. He kept anything he felt from his face, safe for the brief moment in which it darkened. “I killed anyone I didn’t consume. They didn’t see me coming. Sent an all clear to their base so they wouldn’t investigate, at least not for the rest of today.” 

Dr. Mercer let out a relieved sigh, but the other occupant of the room was far less pleased. “Did you just admit to mass murder? And Mercer- do not encourage this sort of behaviour. I don’t care what you took, or how Alex came to be, murder crosses the line.”

Shit. Alex was on his feet in an instant, panic flashing across his features. Right. This wasn’t what he was used to--this kind of thing wasn’t normal. Of course it wasn’t normal, he was a sentient virus that consumed people. He sulked into his hood a little, but kept his sharp gaze on Ragland, even if it was far more nervous than aggressive now. 

“I didn’t have a choice.” He spoke with an uncharacteristic degree of softness, even as he stepped forward, instinctively reaching to Ragland in an attempt at comfort. “They were gonna kill me. If not me, then Dr. Mercer--or Dana, or you.” 

The harshness in Ragland’s expression did not fade for the meek justification given by the virus. He knew he could not harm Alex, but he would not support the ending of another person’s life no matter the circumstance. He refused to sell out his morals, and he took on the dead as a way of honoring their forgotten lives. This was the one line he wouldn’t let anyone cross. “Mercer. Alex.” He breathed slowly through his nose, and looked at the clock. “You have one minute to get out of my sight before I call the police. Leave.” 

The doctor scrambled to his feet, a dark look clouding his features as he tried to meet Ragland’s gaze, only for the gentle hearted pathologist to look firmly into the space above him, dark fists clenched in barely hidden anger. He grit his teeth and pulled his hood up to hide himself with shaking hands, pushing out the doorway past Alex and stalking down the endless clean corridors as fast as he could manage to push his legs. 

Even as Dr. Mercer pushed past him, Alex lingered, hurt etched across his features. But then he was gone, slipping out the door with silent footsteps before his absence could even be acknowledged. He followed Dr. Mercer down the hall, then moved ahead of him, heading out the door several paces ahead of his creator. No Ragland, then. No Dana, either--she needed to recover from what happened yesterday, and she’d call him when she wanted him back around. He lingered outside the door, not turning his head away from the street even at the sound of the door opening. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” It was barely a mumble, but he might as well put the offer out there. He felt stuck--he had nowhere to go. He had nothing to do. He didn’t know what to do. “They probably fixed the window.”

Dr. Mercer barked a dark laugh, and gave Alex a grim smile from beneath the shade of his hood and the auburn sunset. “No. You don’t need to do that. Nothing matters now, after all.” He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, fingers digging deep into his palms, but it barely phased him as he looked around the front- or rather, the back- of the coroner’s wing. He picked a direction he vaguely remembered leading to some alleys, and set off, shaky walking posture slowly correcting itself as he burnt away the excess energy.

Nothing matters now. The phrase seemed to knock Alex out of his sadness induced daze, but before he could respond, Mercer was trudging off some direction. A smashed vial, gunfire at Penn Station--he didn’t like what those words implied. Casting Ragland’s morgue one last glance, he set off behind Dr. Mercer, but took to the rooftops to oversee him from afar. The soldiers he’d consumed whispered in his head, alternating between telling him to stop and telling him to follow. Leave him be, he doesn’t want anything to do with you. Follow him, you’re all he has right now. Even as he walked the roofs, he rubbed his head, grimacing past the amount of noise in it. He just wanted to make sure he got home. That was it. Is this for him, or for you? 

The man who was the subject of Alex’s attention was only somewhat aware of it. Everywhere he looked, there were people- of course there were, it was nearly 8pm in New fucking York City- and if there wasn’t people, there were looming buildings or dark alleyways which, while he could probably go looking through some for a place to hide, this wasn’t his part of New York and he didn’t know where the gangs or the police or any groups were set up. 

He was lost, he was stressed, and he could not settle down anywhere for the life of him despite the hunger burrowing through his stomach, or the dull ache of his feet from the unexpected exercise. So he kept walking, staying away from the shadier looking parts, following the streets in a blind movement forwards, changing directions every so often. He was probably being watched. Being listened to. Being tracked like a prey animal by someone. Alex had confessed to mass murder in the middle of a quiet wing of the hospital, but that was still too public. And the foolish kid had his face, too. He kept walking. All the better to not think.

Dr. Mercer’s energy was draining. By focusing intently on him, he could hear the pattern of his footsteps shifting, his pace slowing even as he pushed himself forward. Had he eaten anything all day, even? Alex could guess that was a no. It was hard to figure out what he even felt towards the man--resentment for what he’d do in October, for making him in the first place, but the fact Dana cared for him made him care, too. He was a bastard, but the kind that made you worry, the kind that didn’t know how to fucking take care of himself and had his bioweapon tracking him so he wouldn’t get killed. And the kind you only cared about more because of that. Surprisingly, a few of the soldiers he’d consumed had similar experiences, or had even been people like Dr. Mercer. 

Whatever he felt, he cared about him. And Dr. Mercer needed help.

He finally dropped from a roof, hitting the concrete of an alleyway with enough force to make the buildings around him shudder. He left it as soon as he dropped into it, catching up with Dr. Mercer without even having to sprint. 

“If you don’t want to go to your apartment,” he started, as though there hadn’t been any gap at all between their conversations, “We could go to the safehouse. It should be empty, because of the reset. I can make spaghetti again.”

Dr. Mercer stumbled back with a curse, back hitting a brick wall he misjudged the distance to with a thud. He didn’t even waste a second to think his words through before he spat out a response drenched in the venom he always shielded himself with, “I don’t want to go anywhere with you. Leave me be and stop coming back.” 

But Alex wasn’t phased. If the venom hurt, he didn’t show it; he merely picked up the pace, just enough to put himself right in front of Mercer. He dug his heels into the concrete, gaze sharp and intense but not aggressive. Just determined. 

“Then I’ll take you to the safehouse, and you’ll stay there by yourself.” He wouldn’t be with Alex, then, now would he? “It’s not safe out here. You said nothing matters, and that’s bullshit. A lot matters.” He narrowed his eyes, tendrils rippling down his back. “What’s it gonna be, Alex?” 

Dr. Mercer ran Alex’s words through his mind once again, eyes narrow as he thought, before responding. “How about you fuck off and leave me alone instead?” He pushed off from the wall and walked in the opposite direction to Alex, but the dehydration and hunger decided to make themselves known, quite forcefully, and he fell to the ground unconscious.

The fall was too sudden for Alex to catch him before he hit the ground, but that didn’t stop him from rushing to the scientist’s side. Dumbass. He huffed as he carefully lifted Dr. Mercer from the ground, cradling him in a way similar to how he’d carried him to Ragland in the first time. With a crouch and a jump, he was back on the rooftops, holding the scientist tightly against his chest as he made his way to the safehouse. He didn’t have a key, but he could barricade the door after breaking it open. He’d figure it out when he got there.

The virus could make the journey back to the safehouse with his eyes shut, given just how used to going there he was. With Mercer in his arms and no key, he settled for kicking the door down, making a note to himself to put it back later. He brought Dr. Mercer to the same sofa he’d set Dana on just yesterday, pulled the same blankets over him and left him there. From there, he headed into the kitchen, digging through the cabinets to see what he could make. There was enough consensus in his mind to turn him away from Nutella this time, instead directing him towards actual spaghetti sauce to accompany the pasta. Remembering water was part of making spaghetti, begrudgingly putting some in a pot and boiling the pasta. Putting more in a cup when he’d finished the food. Alex stepped back into the living room, plate in one hand, glass of water in the other. He set both on the ground next to the couch, before backing into the shadows, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Time to wait. Same as he’d done for Dana. To wait, to think about what they’d do next rather than what had happened before. 

__________________________

Dr. Mercer came to slowly, greeted by a familiar dirty ceiling and the smell of overcooked spaghetti. He sat up abruptly from where he’d been placed on the sofa, and saw that Alex was in the kitchen. Why the fuck was he here. He’d passed out and Alex took him to the ‘safehouse’? Who the fuck would do that. Couldn’t he have just left him there? Time was going to snap back soon enough- he didn’t want to even talk to the damn virus so Alex’s solution was to fucking kidnap him.

His expression twisted into a mute snarl and he stood up- forcing down the dizziness the action brought- and stumbled over to where he guessed the front door was, only to be met with a barricade of planks and furniture propped over a door sized gap. He stood there, swaying slightly from the complete lack of normal energy, and cursed quietly, turning to face the kitchen with dread pooling in his stomach. 

He was trapped. He still didn’t have the address of this place, so he couldn’t get away safely if he wanted to. Dana no doubt still hated him- likely more so after seeing what sort of situation he was in, so he could hardly call her to ask for help getting away from this mad child. He was trapped. Completely and utterly unable to run away from Alex.

The “mad child” in question stepped out from the kitchen soon after, drawn in by the creaking of floorboards and Dr. Mercer’s uneven breaths. He narrowed his eyes a fraction, pale gaze flicking over the man a couple times with an expression between confusion and frustration. Why was he up? He had slept, yeah, but he’d been doing that all day long. How this man even lasted into October was honestly beyond him at this point.

“You shouldn’t be up yet,” he muttered, before making a motion back to the couch. The look in his eyes suggested he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I made you spaghetti, but it got cold. So I’m making more. Sit your ass back down on that couch, and I’ll bring it to you.” In reality, he had gotten stir crazy and didn’t want to pace the apartment, so he decided to cook everything he could get his hands on. Not that Dr. Mercer needed to know that. 

Dr Mercer responded with narrowed eyes and crossed arms, ignoring the firm command. “Let me out of here. I want nothing to do with you.”

“And I don’t want you dying on the street.” Alex shifted his hands to his pockets, but his expression didn’t shift. Well, that was something he never thought he’d say about Dr. Mercer, at least four days ago. “You take care of yourself, and you can leave. That means eating food, and drinking water. But only after that, Alex.” 

“Why do you care?” He snapped, unyielding, “I’m the cause of all your troubles, surely letting me go would serve you better than mothering me.”

“Because you’re family.” There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his voice, though he was impressed at how clearly he could get his thoughts into words. Must’ve been a consequence of all the people he’d consumed today. “You’re my family, and that means it’s my job to keep you safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He paused, furrowing his brow a fraction. “I don’t know why that’s hard to understand.” 

When those words left Alex’s mouth, so simple and pure and innocent, the anger drained from Dr. Mercer’s face, replaced by something like fear, or confusion- but not the red hot vicious feelings that dominated his expression so often. Family. That’s something he hadn’t thought of for years till this horrible week started. The simplicity of the concept of people being good to each other just because they shared blood was one he’d never seen last. His own family was a fractured, criminal ridden mess, with the occasional good egg like Dana slipping out of the clutch. Family. 

He grit his teeth, unnerved by how many feelings the single word brought up. “Family,” He repeated, as if questioning. “You want to care for me because I’m your family?” Dr. Mercer shook his head, “I’m a terrible person for you to choose to be family. Dana would be able to give you a hundred reasons for that. If you must care for someone, go fuss over Dana- she deserves it much more.”

Alex answered the question with a nod, but the flicker of relief on his face at it being finally understood was quick to fade back into frustration. Maybe his view was too simple, yeah. His view of other people consisted of whether they were friend or foe, with essentially no in-between. But that wasn’t the point. Tendrils rippled up his arms, and he exhaled through his nose.

“She could. I could. But even through all the things you’ve done, through all the things I’ve done, she never stopped caring.” He started to reach toward the scientist, but reconsidered, ultimately sticking his hand back in his pocket. “She told me something once. No matter what happened, I was still her brother. She knew about the people I killed. What I did to them. And that’s what she said--and she thought I was you. So no matter what happens, no matter how terrible the things you do are, you’re still my family.” 

He paused, turning his attention to the wall just behind Dr. Mercer. Alex held his breath, staring it down as though he was waiting for something. That was how this worked, right? A moment of connection before everything went wrong. 

“Dana doesn’t want to see me right now, anyway.” A stiff shrug, spurred on by how distracted he had become. He had to listen. He couldn’t let it happen again. “Yesterday really hurt her. So I was leaving her alone. I’ll do the same for you when I know you’re okay.” 

Dr. Mercer listened to Alex, and once he’d finished talking his point- surely he was lying somewhere with how idealistic that story was- he gave a terse nod. “I’ll eat something. And drink some water. Then you leave me the fuck alone tomorrow. Deal?”

That was all he wanted. Alex seemed to snap out of his daze, nodding with a quiet, “deal.” He headed back into the kitchen without further response, preparing a plate with an absurdly large amount of spaghetti. Dana and Dr. Mercer could both take a break tomorrow--same with Ragland. He’d work on investigating the loop. He filled another cup with water, before heading back into the living room. Both the plate and cup were set down on the couch, and he offered Dr. Mercer a small nod before heading back into the kitchen.

Reluctantly, Dr. Mercer ate some of the spaghetti, well aware of how terrible it is. Someone would have to teach Alex to cook eventually, if even the hundred or so employees of gentek, blackwatch included, could merely produce this mess from group collaboration. It was bland, the water more so, but he’d had worse before. He got about a third of the way through the monstrous amount before giving up, just leaning back into the cheap fabric and glaring at the ceiling. He drifted off into an uneasy sleep, accompanied by the clatter of cooking utensils, until time abruptly, in the way it had so regularly done, dropped backwards into the start of the day.


	6. r5

Of all the times Alex had woken up in the damn test tube, this time was different.   
Not because anything had changed--it was still the same day it’d been for nearly a week. He was still in Gentek, Dr. Mercer and Dana were still stuck in this loop. What made today unique was that he wasn’t in much of a rush to get out. He slumped against the glass walls, and if he could have, he would have sworn and broken something. He was alone. No allies, plenty of enemies. He hadn’t been completely alone since those first hours out of the morgue. Dana didn’t want to see him, Ragland was angry with him, even Dr. Mercer was fucking tired of him. The only remaining option was Cross, but who knew how well that’d go, if he was reset like everyone else.

Everyone else usually told him what to do. They gave him somewhere to start, someone to kill. He took things into his own hands from there, but this entire situation was unfamiliar. He smacked his tendrils against the glass, but not hard enough to crack it. Everything was unfamiliar, and he just wanted to figure things out. And like Ragland had proved, this wasn’t a scenario he could kill his way out of.

The sound of footsteps and sudden movement of his container suggested someone was picking him up. Fine, whatever--

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! A loud, repetitive tone suddenly ripped through the air, making him nearly jump out of his nonexistent skin. What little biomass he had formed into jagged spikes, a fact that led to him being quickly set back on the rack. Someone fumbled with something--the beeping device--before the sound finally stopped, and Alex could relax. 

“Jesus, what the hell are you doing, Marshall?!”

“I literally only picked up the sample,” the person closest to him snapped. “My stupid PRD went off. I had it on me for one of the other labs. Either it’s busted, or…” 

The whole room went silent for a good, long moment. 

“...It’s probably just busted.”

“You say that like Mercer wouldn’t make his virus fucking radioactive. Is--Is this new? Does anyone know if this is new? Fuck, if that thing’s radioactive and we’ve just been sitting here with it--”

Radioactive? He pressed his biomass against the side of the glass, doing what he could to listen better. 

Marshall looked fearfully at the tube, PRD flashing mutely in his hand as it was intended to do. It wasn’t broken, though he hoped it was. “Well- even if it is busted- that thing’s climbing the glass. Why did Mercer have to take a sick day today- he knows all the weird shit this thing does… Do we call him?”

“And get blamed for fucking up his precious Blacklight? No way. Just… stay away from it. We could work outside the lab, let Mercer figure it out when he’s back. Lord knows he’d know best.” 

The particularly loud man fell quiet, and Alex could feel the anxious gazes set on him as the scientists began backing away. Dammit! They needed to keep talking about the radioactive thing--his biomass had been reset again, so he had nothing available for him to figure it out himself. So distracted by the newest discovery, however, none of the scientists saw the way the glass keeping Alex trapped began to fracture.

Not until it shattered. It gave out under his force, sending out a spray of broken glass and slithering tendrils that gave everyone in the room a near heart attack. They were going to start running if he didn’t act fast. The second he hit the ground, he started to reform, going from a vaguely human mass to Alex Mercer in a few seconds. A few steps forward, and he had the one called Marshall pinned against a table. The device from before began beeping as he got closer, only getting louder and faster as he closed the distance. He writhed, spikes jutting from his back and tendrils thrashing just beneath the “skin” at how loud it was, but he had to figure this out.

“What do you mean,” he started, dead eyes as sharp as his blade, “radioactive?” 

Marshall let out a mute scream, face going white from terror as he looked into the knife’s edge pale gaze. He was unable to form words, but that didn’t stop him from just shoving the miniature geiger counter at Alex and immediately passing out beneath the pinned gaze.

“Hey! Get off of him!” One of the other lab techs called out, face nearly as pale, “What the fuck’s going on here!? Are you- Blacklight?”

Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen. He stepped away from the now unconscious intern, PRD in hand and being as obnoxiously noisy as ever. He stuck it in his pocket despite its blaring alarms--whatever data it had would be important to sorting out the situation, particularly if being radioactive had anything to do with it (why? The nuke? He knew enough to understand what that entailed). But he couldn’t hear himself think right now. Alex stepped away from Marshall, facing the lab tech who spoke with a stern frown.

“Yeah.” Not like he could lie about that, anyway--and they’d all forget this happened by tomorrow. “The second this device said something was wrong with me, not just regular virus things, you all started freaking out. I just want to know why.”

The one who spoke gaped for a moment, and the still conscious members of the team exchanged glances, trying to figure out what to do. Did they run? Hide? Call Blackwatch? Eventually Dan- the oldest of the lot and the one who’d spoken first- bit the bullet. “Okay so- first, like, please don’t attack us. But what do you know about radiation?”

He looked around the group--the people who helped make him, their pale expressions and anxious glances as they tried to figure out what to do. He didn’t have to like them, but he definitely didn’t have to hurt them. He finally faced Dan, and his expression softened a fraction as he nodded.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” At the very least, he could be confident that was honest. He didn’t need to attack people who hadn’t tried to hurt him, and with October in the future, he had no reason to lash out at anyone here. “I know it’s dangerous. It’s…” A pause, as he tried to debate how to say it, “like nukes, they let off radiation when they explode. I don’t know much more.” 

Blacklight knew about nukes and was a perfect- kinda pale- copy of their boss, but it didn’t know why it was bad. What a strange knowledge set. “Nukes do let off radiation- lots of it. It’s why they’re so dangerous. High concentrations of Radiation causes rapid mutations, breaks things down and reshapes them- which is bad for pretty much all life. You uh- don’t happen to know why or when you became radioactive?”

Rapid mutations, total breakdown and reshaping. He hadn’t done any of that--at least, beyond what he was supposed to do. The thought of his viral strain mutating even further made him grimace, if only for a moment. At least he was the radioactive one, not Dana or someone else. He could take it. The when and why was obvious to him, memories of a bright flash of white and searing hot pain demanding to be known. He didn’t even realize that he’d dazed until he bumped against the table, swaying on his feet a little. Why was that happening? He needed to focus.

“I... don’t remember.” He shrugged a little, hoping his contemplative expression would help his lie. “If I’m radioactive, what about people around me? I’m supposed to mutate and change, I’m not worried about that. Do radioactive things--when they’re not supposed to be--put off radiation?” Or, as the unspoken question, have I been a danger to Dana this entire time and not realized it? 

The initial fear the whole group shared when the virus took human shape slowly faded away, replaced with relief, bemusement, and alot of concern. This thing didn’t want to hurt them, and it seemed tired and dizzy like a kid, not to mention the simple curiosity that drove its questions. For some of the older ones, the behaviours- though mapped onto the angry looking body of their boss- reminded them of their own kids. 

“Yeah- that’s what the PRD is picking up on. You’re way above the safe level for longterm exposure, so that’s why we’re all-” Dan gestured broadly at the huddle of scientists in one corner. “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, this is cool as shit and all- we just don’t like the idea of getting cancer very much, you get what I mean- right?”

Alex’s confused look slowly faded, giving way to one that was unmistakably horrified. He looked rapidly between Dan and the rest of the scientists, before beginning to back away, navigating past the tables with whipping tendrils as he moved towards the opposite side of the room. Way above the safe level, and he’d been carrying Dana and Dr. Mercer both for the last few days, refusing to leave their side. The jagged spikes protruding from his back kept him from pressing himself into the corner on the opposite side of the room, but the thought was clearly there. Would looping time be considered a mutation? 

“Shit.” It was all he could manage, his voice reaching a new level of hoarse even for him. Was Dana already sick? Dr. Mercer? He’d been around both of them nonstop for the past five days, it was plenty possible. He looked at the window--back at the scientists. 

“I need--” he started, swallowing hard, “I need to go.” 

“Go? Go where?” Dan raised an eyebrow. “You’re a human shaped pile of deadly tendrils with a severe aversion to water and it’s raining outside.”

Did everyone except him know about the water aversion? Alex scowled. “Somewhere where people aren’t. At least until I’m not radioactive. You said just being around me could give someone fucking cancer, I can brave a little rain to avoid that.” Half the desire to keep away from everyone, half the need to get Dana and Mercer to a doctor. He had to know they were okay. Maybe he’d leave a message for Ragland, tell him to see Dana. As for Mercer, he didn’t have any ideas, not yet. He’d figure it out. 

“You could go in the quarantine room- it’s just a repurposed X Ray lab we used to do experiments with you so it’s radiation proof- ish.” Dan shrugged helplessly, “People are pretty much everywhere mate, sorry.” The others gave affirmative mumbles, but none other dared to speak to the clumsy virus child before them while it could still kill them easily.

For someone who was just willing to go out in the rain, he seemed visibly relieved that he didn’t necessarily have to. The quarantine room seemed to be his best bet, at least until he could figure things out. After a moment, he nodded. 

“...I guess that works. At least for now. Where is it?” 

“Just down the hall.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction. “You can’t miss it- it’s got a name plaque- you can read, right?- and looks like a small kitchen.”

That was all he needed. Keeping as much of a distance as he could from the scientists, he headed out the door and into the hallway. The quarantine room was easy to find with the combination of Dan’s directions and the plaque, and Alex rushed inside, slamming the door shut with enough force to make the whole wall shudder. He didn’t like it already, the closed walls and minimal space to move, but that didn’t stop him from starting to pace it. If he was as dangerous as the scientists implied, he was going to be stuck in here for a while. As long as everyone else was safe.

What now, though? He would probably break something if he just stayed in here until time looped again. He reached into his pocket, where the PRD was still beeping, swiftly crushing it in his hand to stop all the damn noise. He tossed the remains aside, before trying his pocket again, this time finding his phone--he must have buried it in his biomass when he shoved the PRD in there. He could call Ragland, but he didn’t know his number--hell, did he know anyone’s number? He opened the contacts, trying to find a name he recognized other than Dana’s. This was too much to dump on her right now.

One of the first names he saw was plenty familiar--Alex Mercer. Wasn’t this Dr. Mercer’s phone? Why would his own number be in there? It didn’t matter. He was someone Alex could talk to, and though he’d made it perfectly clear he wasn’t interested in conversation, this was different. This was important. So Alex hit the call button, held the phone up to his ear, and waited, all while shifting his free arm between his arm and his claws just to do something with it. 

“Alex Mercer speaking, who is this.” A curt introduction, tinged with aggression and paranoia.

"It's Alex." A wave of relief washed over him at the sound of the irritable, but familiar voice, though it was brief. "I'm in Gentek, and they said I'm radioactive."

For a moment, the line was silent, then Dr Mercer continued speaking. “Careful what you say, they’re listening. Now, have you done anything recently that involved radiation?”

Who was? He glanced back toward the entrance, uneasy. Blackwatch, if he had to guess. He could take them if it came to it, but that wasn't what mattered now. 

"Yeah. There was a nuke--before all of this started. I was caught in the blast." His pacing picked up speed, the floor starting to dent under his force. "Do you feel sick? Have you heard from Dana?" 

The doctor’s voice was tired, but no more than usual. “She hasn’t called me. I took the sick day so I could get some damn rest, but I might just come visit. You sound… Stressed.” A pause, the sound of fabric rustling. “Our whole bodies reset, pretty sure- I came back from the dead after all. Radiation poisoning won’t affect us till time’s normal, at any rate.” There was a sound like metal against wood as Dr Mercer fiddled with his key, “Have you done anything like you did yesterday?”

Did he sound stressed? Well, he sure as hell was, and thinking about the nuke didn't help. The resetting bodies made sense for him as well, if consuming said anything about it. He thought on it for a moment, frowning to himself. 

"The scientists you work with know about me, but I said I wouldn't hurt them. I'm in the quarantine room." He didn't necessarily want Dr. Mercer to come and get him, but from the sound of it, he didn't have much of a choice. "Radiation wouldn't make time fuck up, though. That's what doesn't make sense. They just said mutations and things like that."

“Normally mixing up genetic traits to make carnivorous goop wouldn’t create sentience but here we are. It might be some strange property of yours, I wouldn’t rule it out. I’m on my way.” Abruptly, the doctor hung up. 

...He had a point. Alex exhaled slowly through his teeth, tucking the phone in his pocket and prying his feet out of the holes he’d embedded into the quarantine room’s floor with his frantic pacing. He leaned against the wall, watching tendrils ripple down his arm. They didn’t seem any different than normal. If being radioactive was changing something, he would feel it, wouldn’t he? Then again, he hadn’t exactly realized he wasn’t human for a pretty long time. The only thing left to do was wait for Dr. Mercer. He crouched down,tracing the floor with a freshly formed claw as he waited.

It didn’t take long for the doctor to arrive, and despite the confused murmurs from the security guards out front he had no issue getting inside, stalking through the halls to his destination, only to see a small crowd of his crew looking in through the one way mirrors at Alex, no doubt curious. 

He cleared his throat, and they jumped up like frogs from a sauna, startled. “Yes, he’s quite fascinating, but he’s not a circus animal. If you want to ogle him, talk to him first.” Perhaps, a short week ago, he would’ve been one of the oglers, but Alex had changed him, as loathe as he was to admit it. He didn’t give them a chance to respond, going into the small room with his significantly more ripple cover doppelganger, in the process of ripping the floorboards open with one giant clawed hand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, but you do look like you could handle electrocution so maybe I’m speaking too soon.” Although his words were sharp, the slight upturn of his lips and the merely neutral eyebrow position gave away the doctor’s true feelings.

“I’ve been electrocuted before.” He mumbled it without glancing up, but the familiar scent and voice snapped him back to the present. He stood immediately, something lighting up in his eyes as he let out an odd, happy rumble (of which he seemed to ignore). His claws became arms again, though he didn’t move away from the wall. It was nice to see a familiar face, particularly when said person wasn’t telling him to fuck off yet. 

He paused for a moment, though, something occurring to him. He unraveled one of his arms, just enough to pull a white cloth from it--the fabric of a lab coat. 

“Even when we reset, I still keep some stuff. This is from your lab coat.” 

“Oh?” He plucked it carefully from Alex’s grip deciding not to comment on the purr, running his hands over it while humming curiously, unbothered by the proximity. “It seems to be perfectly intact- apart from the shredding. I’d guess your method of storing items within biomass bypasses the reset, since it seems like they disappear within you. You keep my form from October after all.” Although he talked easily, naturally soft voice showing through his excitement, he did not truly settle, looking at the ‘mirror’ with a harsh gaze every so often.

If that was the case, what about the people he consumed? It seemed like a mess not worth diving into, so he didn’t ask, just let Dr. Mercer examine the lab coat. He made a mental note to try and carry more things with him when given the chance. That wasn’t the main point, however. He crossed his arms, furrowing his brow somewhat and talking in a quieter, more cautious tone. 

“What do we do about it? If me being radioactive is the source of all of this, then there’s gotta be some way to stop it.”

“Radioactivity will likely go away with time, we could check your levels tomorrow and compare them. Do you have a geiger counter we could use today?”

Alex cast a quick glance to the pieces of the PRD, currently laying on the ground. “No. One of the employees might, though. Marshall had one the first time.” 

Dr Mercer tutted and threw open the door, ignoring the shout of pain from Emma who was standing right in front of the door, and glowered at the lot of them. “If you’re going to stand out here like fearful rats, one of you can make yourself useful and fetch me a geiger counter from Radiology. Don’t you have paperwork to do?”

Alex watched the scene unfold from behind Dr. Mercer, catching the quietest defiant mumbles that soon died off in defeat. As one left to retrieve a geiger counter, the others lingered, casting Dr. Mercer a few uneasy glances before ultimately going their separate ways. As curious or concerned as some of them may have been, some battles just weren’t worth fighting, particularly against your boss. Alex stepped back into the room once the people had left, moving instead to continue his pacing. At least it wasn’t angry pacing this time--just a way to pass the time while he waited on the geiger counter. 

Dr Mercer didn’t stop the virus from pacing around, merely leaning on the door waiting for the counter to arrive. When it finally got delivered to him, he snatched it from his Intern’s hands and after shooing him off, shut the door and turned it on, grimacing at the ear piercing shriek it gave off. The number display shot up rapidly, past 500, 1000, 2000, 4000 rems- then it broke, refusing to go higher and ceasing the screams. He looked up at Alex, carefully. “I’m fairly certain you did something to the nuke- I should be melting into a mutated flesh pile any moment now, but it seems harmless. Perhaps your body converted the blast into biomass reserves, or somehow created the source of the time loop. Very interesting…” He devolved into unintelligible mutterings, lost in his thoughts.

The shrieking geiger counter ruined any calming down Alex had done, spikes of biomass accompanied by thrashing tendrils as he grinded his teeth. Once the awful noise finally stopped (could they make one of those that wasn’t so painful?), he could catch a glimpse of the counter. 4000 rems. Not that he had any idea what that meant, but it was probably bad. The fact he was apparently harmless was a relief, though, even if he was weirdly radioactive.

“I can’t consume nukes.” He should know, he tried to consume a gun once. Nukes weren’t that different. Before he could think on it much more, though, Dr. Mercer was mumbling--and while Alex could hear him just fine, save for the ringing in his ears from that stupid counter, he wasn’t making any actual words. Okay. He’d just leave him to that. In the meantime…

Dana! Dr. Mercer said the radiation was harmless, which meant that he could go talk to Dana, without the fear of hurting her. Even if she told him to leave her alone sometime longer, he could at least make sure she was okay. Plus, he’d been cooped up since he came to--the lack of movement and the worst possible noises had him wanting to bash his head against a wall. He looked to Dr. Mercer, still mumbling--and scooped him up the same way he’d done the past couple of days, heading out of the quarantine room and towards the door. It wasn’t raining, he could tell from the sound. No rain, and they were a step closer to figuring out what was going on, and he was on talking terms with Dr. Mercer and potentially Dana again. Alex would consider this a pretty damn good day.

______________________

Dr Mercer didn’t have as many qualms with being carried like a ragdoll as he expected, and found himself relaxing into the rough travel method, curiosity overtaking any dizziness or lack of breath easily. It was fascinating to travel so fast with no shielding from the elements. Then Alex jumped through a window and dropped him on the couch- and he realised the location Alex had chosen within an instant. Dana’s house. Of course. He sat stiffly on the sofa, hunched down to hide his frame from view of where he could hear Alex moving- presumably to Dana, Great, time for another tongue lashing. 

As if on cue, a door opened, and Dana stepped into view. Alex looked seconds from pacing a nervous trench into her floor, and her brother (though she could barely see the top of his head, he was the only one Alex would have brought along) trying to become one with her couch. But she offered no insult or argument. Instead, she crossed her arms, her tone serious. The only remnants of when Alex had last seen her were the dark rings under her eyes, but moping hadn’t been at all in her plans when she woke that morning.

“I was wondering when one of you was going to show up. I’ve been digging around, and I got a shitton of stuff on Blackwatch.” Alex glanced up at the familiar name, ceasing his pacing so he could listen to what she had to say. She glanced over to the couch, raising a brow despite knowing he wasn’t looking her way. “You coming with us? Or should Alex just repeat everything later?” 

“Ah- right…” He got up, stiffness of posture betraying his discomfort, and made his way over to Dana but keeping some distance. “I’m interested what you found.”

Her gaze softened, but she only nodded, motioning both of them into the room where her laptop was set up. On the wall next to her desk, the same as the safehouse, a bulletin board was in position--covered in photos, notes, newspaper articles and maps. She pulled out her desk chair and sat, promptly opening her laptop and logging in. Alex cast Dr. Mercer a brief, confused glance, before moving to stand behind Dana and watch her screen. 

“It took a lot of piecing together, but that’s one of the good things about being from the future--you get shit you wouldn’t otherwise know about. I think I’ve got the bastards down to a T.” She pulled open a photo--at a glance, there didn’t seem to be anything impressive about it. A group of children in an unknown location, all smiling for the camera. She turned her chair to face them both, something dark crossing her expression. 

“The earliest back I’ve been able to get is this--the first Blackwatch soldier projects…” She gestured at the screen, and over the course of several long hours she explained the harrowing history of the group that hunted down both her brothers to them, right up to what happened through October to the best of her recollection. 

Dr Mercer, though he seemed stoic on the outside, felt almost sickened by the flat details his sister had unearthed. He knew something had its claws sunk into the Blacklight project, he just didn’t know what- until she put the scattered dots together. Perhaps there was something useful from journalism skills after all, when held by Dana. He sipped the glass of water he’d grabbed carefully, pondering the implications. “Do we try and get that Cross person Alex knew into the loop? Considering these developments…” 

“He’s a good ally.” It was Alex who spoke, leaning against Dana’s chair and looking between the two of them. “He might’ve started as Blackwatch, but after Dana was knocked out, he gave me intel. He told me what I was. He died. I don’t know when.” The virus moved away, starting to pace the unoccupied half of the room. “But he’s an ally.”

“So we find Cross, and we find him enough times that he remembers what happened. The more the merrier.” Not that she had many reasons to trust Alex’s judgment, but if it came down to it, the “Cross” guy would just end up forgetting them all when everything reset. Dana nodded to herself, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her eyes. “If he’s as much of a big-league bitch as he sounds, though, we’ll have to infiltrate or draw him in. Alex?” 

“Infiltration is my thing. I can raise hell if that doesn’t work.” 

“Good.” A pause. “...Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’m fucking beat. Doc, you can take the spare room. Alex, don’t burn the house down.” With that, she closed her laptop and stood, motioning to the door. Alex and Dr. Mercer left without much else, both going their separate ways. Alex went right out the door, taking the opportunity to climb the roof and stand guard.

By now, it was notably late--time was going to reset soon. He’d wake up in a test tube, break out, and get into Blackwatch. As fucked up as the situation was, Alex couldn’t help but consider it an improvement, almost. The constant threat of death didn’t hang over his head, the simple act of not knowing what would happen tomorrow erased. No spreading infection, no threat of Hunters breaking through the wall and taking his sister away, no bombing of Manhattan. It was... nice. 

The thought took even him off guard, and he moved his hand to his mouth, surprised to find he was smiling. It was like sitting with Dana between missions, but this time, they wouldn’t come to an end--not for a while.

A sound. He only caught it for half a second--something akin to a crunching noise, like teeth sinking into flesh and bone. He stood, only for his body to give out on him almost immediately, and darkness filled his vision.


	7. r6

Dr. Mercer, by now, was getting the hang of this time loop situation. He’d wake up at home, go about his business until Alex burst out of the test tube, and then Alex would get an idea in his head and drag him along, away from work. It was becoming a routine, and there was little he liked more than routine.

This morning, rather than the muted warmth of his own bed covers, he woke up to the feeling of something cold and smooth on all sides. Odd. He tried to open his eyes to investigate, only to come to a horrifying conclusion; he no longer had eyes to open. Or for that matter, any of his usual appendages or structures. He was simply missing everything he’d need to move or function. Dr. Mercer, for the first time in quite some years, felt raw fear. What had happened? 

He tried to move, just throwing his body in one direction,and was rewarded. Motion was difficult and the sensory input was stranger. He was inside something narrowly curved and -smooth, and quite cold. Was he… In a test tube? Dr. Mercer slumped down, and tried to listen. He could hear himself impact the possible glass, so it seemed his senses were possibly reduced to touch and hearing, somehow. 

Most sounds came to him as too loud shudders and high pitched vibrations against the glass. So he had sensitive hearing- but quite limited range. He’d just have to hope someone came close enough to explain to him what the hell was going on. He found being a pile of goop quite unsatisfying, but he could hardly change that- he barely knew how to move.

Luckily, Dr. Mercer wasn’t alone. The sound of footsteps--or something that could be equated to that--drew near, a pair of people, one closer to the test tube than the other. For someone with the eyes to see, it was a pair of Gentek employees, holding a casual conversation next to their sample. While the person standing farther away was more muffled, the closer one was almost painfully clear.

“Hey, have you heard anything from Alex? He normally calls when he’s running late.” 

“No, actually. Maybe he forgot to charge his phone, though.”

“Maybe.” A small laugh. “Poor guy would forget his head if it wasn’t attached to him.” 

Dr. Mercer felt confusion ripple through him, quite literally much to his alarm. Those voices, though hard to distinguish, were his employees. Expecting him to show up to work- although their descriptions of him made him bristle with annoyance. He was right here- surely one of them had put him in the test tube- they should acknowledge him, damn it. 

There was a brief pause, before the second one spoke up again, briefly shifting the topic. “Not sure how much longer Blacklight’s gonna wait for him to show up, regardless. Anyone fed it today?” 

“No, only because Alex normally does it.” With a careful and precise grip, the test tube was plucked up from the rack, carefully examined by the tech holding it. “It’s really tense today, though. It’s normally more fluid than this. Has the temperature in here changed much?”

Dr. Mercer froze, hearing them refer to him as Blacklight, and an ‘it’ no less. Was this a side effect of the massive radiation levels? Infection from Alex? How the hell did he come to be the virus he himself had created? At least that answered why he couldn’t see- Blacklight in its raw form never demonstrated light sensitivity, only heat sensitivity. 

He forced himself to stop looking like a liquid hedgehog, and settled at the bottom of the test tube, half sulking despite his inexpressive body. He could hardly go help talk to Cross like this, and the employees would never recognise him. So now he was hungry, cold, and a tiny limbless blind blob. Perhaps Alex would show up and help him- he had no idea how to do the tendrils trick the virus used every day to escape.

“Ah, there it goes,” the lab tech remarked, before setting the test tube back on the rack. Not even a minute later, the door to the lab was flung open, and the employees hardly had time to react before Alex Mercer was stumbling into the table they leaned against. He fumbled blindly with its surface, gulping for air like someone who’d just sprinted a marathon until the two employees frantically pulled him away from the sample.

“Jesus--Alex?! What the hell happened?!” Instead of responding, the “scientist” let out a few desperate wheezes, grappling the tech and intern for dear life as they carefully lowered him to the ground. The two employees exchanged a worried glance. “Easy, Alex. Deep breaths, okay? Just--”

“D…” A familiar voice wheezed out, fumbling against the two employees trying to help calm him down, “Doc…tor, M--” 

“Don’t waste your breath, okay? Just focus on breathing.” The intern murmured, making sure her boss was stable on the ground before standing up. All the lab tech could offer was a confused shrug. 

That- that was definitely Alex who’d rocked the table and spoken with his voice. What the hell happened to him? He was practically invulnerable- did he run in the rain or something? Dr. Mercer resolved to get closer, somehow, and set to trying to escape. Motion was difficult, but he managed to slither up the glass sides and cling to the rubber stopper, swaying with a gap beneath him as he tried to get out. This whole situation felt weird, but he could not for the life of him dislodge the seal. All he succeeded in doing was making a series of soft clinks as the more solid, metallic, parts of his biomass bumped against the glass. At least it wasn’t hard to hold on, strangely enough.

Despite the advice to stay still and “catch his breath” (what did that even mean??), Alex pushed against the employees so he could get back to his feet. He could breathe, now, kind of. Close enough. He squinted, trying to make sense of his surroundings. It was like when he’d woken up in the morgue. He could barely stand, his legs shaking and threatening to give out beneath him--he could only hope he was in the right place, with his senses of hearing and smell seemingly muted. Not to mention, he couldn’t fucking see. No, it wasn’t like the morgue, it was like the parasite. He felt weak, like he hadn’t consumed anything in months. He grasped the table they’d put him up against, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid the headache trying to see was giving him.

“There you go. Take it easy.” He shrugged off a hand that was set on his shoulder, unable to recognize who it might’ve been based on the voice alone. He couldn’t smell them, hear the way they moved, and it bothered the shit out of him. Still, the tech continued. “What happened? You look like hell, not to mention the fact it’s pouring down rain out there.”

“I-...” He took a deep, wheezy breath, shifting his feet and rolling his shoulders when the ripple he tried to send across his body did nothing. “I--fuck--I ran, I ran here, but… couldn’t build speed--” 

“You ran here.” A blink. Two. “Alex, no offense, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run anywhere.”

“No--it’s--” He shook his head in frustration, but gave up on trying to explain himself. Pushing past them, he began fumbling at the table with the test tube again. After a moment of struggle, his fingers brushed by something he vaguely recognized as glass. And with the grace of a bull in a china shop, he pushed the entire test tube rack onto the floor, only subverted from sticking his hands in the mess of glass and virus by some panicked screams and scientists tugging him away. 

Dr. Mercer had the disorienting feeling of falling within the container- then his vial smashed onto the floor and everything got very loud, very fast- not to mention the stomach churning feeling of tasting every bit of lint fluff, every speck of soil, every shed hair or scratched off skin cell he came across. Panicking, he tried to find some of the glass by spreading out, distracted by the warm masses he could feel mere feet from him. Thankfully, there was a decent sized shard near where most of him was and he perched atop the island of plain, tasteless, smooth material, a quivering black orb of overstimulation. 

Alex tried to struggle against the scientists holding him back, but after the sprint here, he could barely move. Once they decided he wasn’t going to run face first into the pile of bioweapon and glass, they pulled Alex away, putting a good distance between him and what had to be Blacklight. They didn’t understand--that was his, he needed the biomass, he was so weak and--

“Maybe we should call his sister?” The lab tech asked, glancing between his disheveled boss and the blob of death way too close for comfort. “And... get someone to clean that up before it eats someone.” 

Eat someone. Alex turned his attention to the nearest scientist, a look of desperation in his eyes. He staggered to his feet, before throwing his arms around the intern, pulling her tightly to his chest and furrowing his brow as he willed his tendrils to emerge. He didn’t want to consume someone who hadn’t done anything, but he was too busy freaking the fuck out to care. But even as he stood there, as close of proximity as he could manage, his body didn’t react. He couldn’t consume?! The thought was more than enough to leave him staggering back, panicking welling in his chest as he pressed himself against the wall.

The intern, both thoroughly confused and concerned for her boss, mumbled to the lab tech to “do something about Blacklight.” As he headed out, the intern kept an uneasy eye on Alex as she dialed his sister’s number. 

“Hey, Dana? Sorry if you’re busy. Your brothers kind of freaking out, could you come talk to him?”

There was a small, exasperated sigh from the other side of the line. “For fuck’s… is he sober?” 

“What? Of course- at least, I think so..? He said he ran all the way here and then he knocked Blacklight out of the rack, and now he’s-” She paused looking up at Alex. “-having a panic attack by the window. Could you just come here, please? He always listens to you.”

There was a long pause, finally ended with a soft, “Shit.” From the phone, it was obvious that Dana was heading out the door. “Alright, just--try to get him to walk around, or something. Moving around calms him down. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” With that, she hung up. 

Emma looked at the dead phone for a long moment, then up at Alex who was still too in his own head to listen. She didn’t exactly want to get hug tackled again. “Hey, big guy. Reckon you’re up for some walking till your sis gets here?”

It took Alex a moment to respond, busy as he was kicking the ground and hitting his hands against the wall behind him in a frantic attempt to calm. Dana--Dana was coming. That was good. Dana would know what to do. After a moment, he managed a weak nod; he pried himself off the wall he’d been practically trying to glue himself to, and followed after the intern without complaint.

Meanwhile, the lab tech--Marshall--stepped back into the room, donning a hazmat suit and fidgeting uneasily as he approached the blob of viral mass. It didn’t seem to like the ground--which was good, considering the fact they might have all been eaten or infected by it otherwise. He grabbed a fresh test tube from one of the nearby tables, swallowed hard, and knelt down next to the sample. He picked up the piece of glass Blacklight had taken to like a life raft and set it against the test tube, doing his best to nudge the virus back where it belonged.

“Easy, there, right? Back in the tube you go…” He mumbled, more so to himself than anything. 

Into the tube? No. Hell no. Dr. Mercer flattened himself out, clinging to the glass, and managed to reassemble himself on the other side of the shard (he was getting the hang of motion, good)- with a warm, plastic covered something that tasted like bleach. Probably the finger of a hazmat suit- just how small was he? He wrapped around it like a liquid snake, refusing to budge despite the horrible sensation which had him forming jagged metallic spikes all over. Maybe he could consume this person…? But as soon as the thought crossed his mind he knew he had no concept of how to do it. 

“Oh no, ohhh no no no--” Marshall let out an assortment of panicked squeaks as the extremely deadly bioweapon elected to wrap around his finger, because hazmat suit or not, this was Blacklight. How did he get talked into this. Why did he let himself get talked into this. Biting his lip to try and keep himself from panicking, he shakily moved his hand toward the vial, trying to nudge Blacklight into it without getting stabbed by the various spikes popping up around it. “N-Not there, bad virus! Just--please go into the tube--”

Nope, nope, nope, nope. He was free and he intended to stay that way. He moved up the gloved hand, wrapping around the wrist like a thin bracelet of dark goop. Try dislodging him now, Marshall. Keep thinking he’s just some stupid virus and maybe he would try to figure out consuming- just out of spite. He mostly didn’t want to be trapped, even though he knew it would be safer and that yeah, he would try the same thing in the kid’s situation. He was running on fear and spite at this point.

And now it’s on his wrist. Closer to his face. This was fine. Not like this thing could wipe out an entire city if released! Marshall bit back a scream, but didn’t cease at his efforts to nudge Blacklight into the test tube. This was it. This was how he died. Blacklight was going to do something fucked up, like launch itself at his face, and he would be screwed. All because it wouldn’t go into the test tube--it wasn’t even a wet test tube! He wasn’t that stupid! As he held Blacklight up against the vial again, he squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the worst.

Instead of his predicted death, however, someone else stepped into the room. She walked right behind Marshall, as though he wasn’t holding one of the most deadly bioweapons ever made, and sighed--stopping long enough to rub her eyes. 

“Doc, get off him.” Dana remarked, glancing behind her to where a still squinting Alex was lingering in the doorway. “You can handle five seconds in the vial, then we’ll put you somewhere else. I’m pretty sure your buddy here is about to have a fucking heart attack.”

He perked up at his sister’s voice, raising up and stretching in her direction- then she scolded him about the test tube. He sunk back to his perch, considering the request mulishly. Maybe it was how hungry he was, or how cold the lab felt that was making him so petty- or perhaps just the completely alien experience he’d been having thus far. Reluctantly, he moved to the vial and pooled in the bottom. He had an idea of how to make the spikes now, so he felt more confident he could escape if he wanted to this time. She’d better not be tricking him, but Dana was one of the few people he trusted at all- so he’d let her direct him for now. At least she had eyes.

That worked. Before Marshall could even be relieved, Dana plucked the vial from his hand. After a moment of scouring the room, she set eyes on a medium sized and clean (though not wet) beaker. Way too big for a sample this small, but at least he wouldn’t get claustrophobic. Leaving the beaker on the table, she set the lip of the test tube against it, waiting for her blobified brother to take the hint. She had questions--a lot of fucking questions. But it wasn’t the time or the place.

He wasn’t expecting to be tipped over, so initially he clung to the test tube, before shaking off the silly fear. He didn’t even have bones to break, why was he freaking out over some angling? He let himself fall, landing inside something smooth and glass, big enough for him to stretch out fully with room to spare. Weird. Maybe she’d found a glass cooking bowl for him or something? He ‘looked’ in the vague direction of Dana shaped warmth, not sure where to go from here.

She watched the small blob flop into the beaker with a small sigh of relief, even if it was… really hard to consider this one Doc. Alex would have made sense, but Alex wasn’t this small, even when in a form like this. She picked up the beaker as carefully as she could, avoiding moving it around too much as she headed toward the door. On the bright side, Alex seemed to have calmed down--must have put the pieces together when she was talking to Doc, though he hardly looked happy with the situation. Shit, she’d need to find something sturdy to cover Doc if she was going outside. Rain wasn’t good. 

Marshall scrambled to his feet, rushing to block the door as nervous words fell from his lips. “I’m grateful for your help miss Dana, but you can’t take that out of here! It’s-- It’s really dangerous-- it could kill you if it touches you!”

Alex scowled a little from behind Marshall, but Dana only greeted him with a slight raise of her brow and a glance to Doc. “Yeah, I got that. Pretty sure it’s getting taken out of here eventually, though, and I have Alex with me.” She tilted her head towards him, though the thought of Alex running the Blacklight project was even more surreal than her tiny, viral older brother. “Do you really want Blacklight back right now? I mean, he looked ready to eat your face.” 

“You’re carrying it in an unsecured beaker without a lid!” His voice rose to a panicked squeak, and he gesticulated frantically. “You tilt it wrong and it could just hop out! Please reconsider how, even if Alex is allowing this!”

“I needed a lid anyway, don’t worry. It’s raining.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes, settling instead on huffing through her nose. “They have covers for beakers, right? Something like that is all I need.” Rather than waiting on Marshall to fetch it, she turned back to the lab, skimming the cabinets for something to shield her brother with until grabbing something that look like a glass plate. Plopping it on top the beaker and holding it in place with her free hand, she pushed past Marshall and headed down the hallway, with Alex soon in tow. 

Her trip went well, Alex walking alongside her and shooting strange glances at the beaker containing Dr. Mercer, right up until they reached the door. She made sure to keep the beaker thoroughly covered, but soon realised someone else was missing. Alex lingered at the doorway, very reluctant to exit. “It won’t hurt you Alex, you’re human now- remember?”

Oh, he remembered. It wasn’t exactly easy to forget the fact all of his muscles--actual muscles, not biomass--still burned from the sprint to Gentek, or the dryness of his mouth, or the fact Dana was essentially just a blob of familiar colors due to his vision being fucked up. All the little things that, apparently, made up a human being. He glared at the rain falling outside, as though that would somehow stop it, before muttering under his breath and following after Dana. She’d know, he trusted her to know--not that it stopped him from grimacing and shuddering as the rain came into contact with him. 

Now, where was the best place to take not one, but two hydrophobic brothers in the middle of a rainstorm. Probably somewhere close- Ragland’s hospital wasn’t too far, if she remembered right. She set off for it, keeping a close eye on both brothers as the group moved through the crowded New York streets.

Alex didn’t even realize where they were, though on a normal day, he’d recognize the scent in an instant as they stepped into a hospital hallway. It wasn’t entirely his vision, either--not with how intently focused he was on the beaker in Dana’s hands, nearly stumbling into things as a result. But that was Dr. Mercer, and from what he could make out, he was… tiny. He barely had any biomass at all. They needed to feed him something, though Alex wasn’t sure how well he could convince his sister to go throw Dr. Mercer at a cop. At least not while it was raining. He wouldn’t wish that hell on anyone, except maybe Randall. 

Dana opened a door, and even with his dulled senses, he could smell what had to be food. Perfect. Pulling the beaker out of Dana’s hands (she didn’t fight him over it; he’d know about virus shit better than anyone else), he grabbed a piece of food off Dr. Ragland’s desk and sat on the floor. Off came the lid of the beaker, and without any concern for infection, he carefully set the piece of chicken (that was what this was, right?) in the beaker. It wasn’t as fresh or as much as a person, but it was much more than whatever Dr. Mercer had now.

...Wait. Why was Ragland here? He turned sharply, squinting anxiously at the mess of blurry colors behind him. How humans managed to function with virtually no eyesight was beyond him. 

Ragland, though well used to Alex’s antics, had to think to himself that barging in without a greeting and stealing some of his dinner to feed to what resembled some sort of slug, was a new level of strange. He looked incredulously between Alex, who was perched on the floor watching the creature in the beaker intently, and Dana, leaned casually on his doorframe. “Good afternoon to you too, Alex. And Dana- what exactly brings you both here?” He gestured to Alex, “And could I get a reason why he stole my chicken breast?”

Alex glanced up long enough to murmur a small, characteristically quiet greeting, while Dana waved. She did have to take a moment to figure out why he would have stolen Ragland’s food, though it was easy to come to a conclusion.

“He’s feeding the virus,” she remarked, though grimaced a little at calling her brother “the virus”. Yeah, not doing that again. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have enough of a concept of stealing to apologize, though. Sorry for the break-in, it’s raining like hell out there.”

“Feeding the virus.” Ragland repeated, somewhat incredulous, looking at the beaker on his office floor with a full sized chicken breast folded inside, and the black blob within pressed on the other side to it. “I- see.”

Feeding was a generous term, considering Dr. Mercer had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do. When the still warm slab of chicken was dropped into the beaker he initially pressed himself flat against the other side, feeling mildly betrayed by the fact he just nearly got crushed by some giant item without warning. 

Hesitant tendrils investigated, and after identifying it as chicken he realised he was supposed to eat it- probably. But how? He approached it, contemplative. It was bigger than his whole ‘body’, but Alex never had trouble with that so he probably shouldn’t assume that made any difference. How did it look when Alex consumed things? He stabbed them and something happened, then he took the food into his general biomass. 

So… first step would be stabbing. He sent out a long tendril, willed some feeble spikes onto it and jabbed- only for it to glance off the chicken’s crispy skin. Not for the first time today, he greatly desired the ability to scream his frustrations to the heavens. He readied another tendril, then two- then, realising he didn’t have to limit himself like that- he just became a angry pile of spiky whips and attacked the chicken, shredding it even though it took most of his energy. Carefully, he took some of the more ‘bite sized’ chicken, and after some puzzling out, he figured out the trick to consuming. It was definitely easier to do it with the small pieces he’d made, but once he was done he noticed something- he’d increased in size- though not much. Convenient. 

Alex watched the entire scene, shivering some to try and dispel some of his nervous energy. Even if it took some trying, Dr. Mercer seemed to figure consuming out--a fact that made him visibly relieved. Consuming was vital, as far as he was concerned, so at least they didn’t have that to worry about. All they needed to do now was find someone Alex would be alright with Dr. Mercer consuming. He leaned back a bit, wiping irritably at his dry mouth. That tendril frenzy was actually a pretty good idea. He made a mental note to use that, when the chance came up. 

In the meantime--the more biomass, the better. He narrowed his eyes in the vague direction of Dr. Ragland, brow furrowed. “Do you have more? He’s tiny. It’s not normal. More food should help with that.” 

“You want me to help grow your pet bioweapon?” Ragland shook his head, “The cafeteria’s still open, I’m sure you could buy lots of meat for it there. I’m interested, but you did steal the last part of my salad-” He paused, and looked Alex over, something on his mind, and when he resumed speaking it was with a fond, exasperated tone. “Nevermind that, you forgot your glasses again. You’re a mess, Alex.” 

Dana recognized the look of confusion on Alex’s face, but he beat her to the punch, talking before she could even try convincing him not to. “I don’t know what that is.” He narrowed his eyes, looking over the Ragland blur with a slight frown. “We need meat, though. Something bigger than chicken.” Dana dragged a hand down her face, but repressed her frustration for Alex’s sake--he didn’t exactly ask for this. 

“I assure you, the Cafeteria has plenty of meat. But-” His face was genuinely puzzled, “You don’t know what what is?”

“Glasses.” His expression and tone didn’t shift in the slightest, even as he stood, uncovered beaker in his hands. “...Sorry. I don’t know much. I haven’t been able to ki--”

Dana all but threw herself across the room, cutting Alex off with a harsh whisper of, “Jesus fucking Christ, Alex,” which made him avert his eyes and awkwardly back away. She faced Ragland, sighing through her teeth. “A mess is a goddamn understatement, believe me. Sorry about the chicken.”

Ragland looked between the two siblings, fairly certain he knew what Alex was going to say- despite how out of character that would be. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Look, I’ll take you two to the cafeteria. We can talk about why you decided to take that on a field trip. Just don’t finish that sentence- even as a joke.” He stepped out into the hall, motioned for them to follow him, and set off. Both Dana and Alex were quick to follow, even if Alex was shuffling behind them with a couple muttered apologies. 

It was a quick trip to the cafeteria, during which Dana did her best to explain the day to Ragland in a way that didn’t make her sound completely out of it--Alex’s panic, the virus’ behavior, leaving out all the parts about the universe completely fucking up. The second Alex could smell the food, however, he was drawn ahead of them like a moth to a flame. Thank fucking God no one told him about the cafeteria when he was the virus, Dana thought, catching up with him long enough to pull his wallet out of his coat pocket and offered him his credit card. Er… her brother’s card? Whatever. 

“Go grab whatever you want, for both of you. You’re probably loaded as shit, working for Gentek, so the price shouldn’t be a problem.” A pause. “...Don’t steal anything. Just give the people at the cash register the card.” She hoped he got the point, with how obviously distracted he was as he headed off to find food--she ended up having to slip the card back into his pocket before he left. 

Dr. Mercer, though he stayed placid inside the beaker, was pretty excited at the thought of food- which was honestly not something true for him very often. He knew the capabilities of Blacklight, and once Alex joined the queue he leapt out of the beaker, taking a second to steady himself when he hit the rail for food trays, before sliding along them to .

It was easy to follow his new strange senses to the heated food trays, and he made quick work of them, sliding over the surface and leaving no food item behind, looking like a shadow of destruction that disappeared as soon as you noticed him. He kept going, ignoring the shouts of surprise, until he ran ‘face’ first into a wall, and slipped down into a slim gap between the countertop and the wall, folding his much larger mass in to hide. That was much too fun, for what it was. He had an idea now- but he’d have to try it when he wasn’t surrounded by people. 

Alex let Dr. Mercer go about his chaos without a word--half because he was just eating food, not people, and half because a sudden wave of nausea and dizziness nearly knocked him off his feet. He leaned against the rail for the trays, pushing down the pain in his stomach and general inability to stand up straight. Kind of hard to be hungry when you couldn’t consume anything. He followed after Dr. Mercer, ignoring the confused and panicked voices both in front of and behind him (particularly the people in front of him, considering he was just walking past them). Speaking of, where the fuck did Mercer go? He tried squinting, but for the life of him he couldn’t make out any sign of him. Well, shit. Hopefully he didn’t just accidentally cause a second apocalypse. 

Seeing as he couldn’t find Dr. Mercer or… figure out where he was going, exactly, he ended up leaning against the nearest wall, rubbing his eyes with a small huff through his nose. His eyes hurt, his head hurt, his limbs hurt, his stomach hurt and his throat hurt--he didn’t ask Dana where she was going with Ragland, either. He swore under his breath. 

Relief came in the form of a distinctly Dana-colored blur, stepping toward him and giving him what he assumed to be a very confused look. “Why’d you leave the queue? You’re supposed to--”

Her words died off as she stared at the empty beaker, currently held against the former virus’ chest like a child might hold a plush toy. “...Alex. Where’s Doc.” This was probably the worst absolute time for him to give her that vague shrug of his. She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, “You lost the fucking bioweapon in the middle of a cafeteria?”

At the very least, Alex got the hint--even if he didn’t, he was naturally quiet. “I told him not to eat anyone.” A pause. “Anyone except cops.” 

Dr. Mercer carefully reached a tendril out, and tapped what he guessed was Dana’s or Alex’s leg, before retreating mostly back- leaving just enough outside the hiding spot that those two could spot him. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too mad- he was just hungry.

The feeling of something against her leg was more than enough to get Dana’s attention, and sure enough, there was the missing brother. She knelt down as he peeked out from the hole he’d apparently decided to shove himself into--and at this point, she was more exhausted than she was angry. 

“We were going to get you food.” She mumbled, shaking her head like a disappointed parent. She sure as hell felt like one. “You’re both a couple of fucking disasters, you know that? Doc, see if you can get back to Ragland’s office. Subtly. There’s too many damn people here. I’ll get something for Alex and meet you there.” 

He couldn’t talk, but he made a vague approximation of a hand to nod with, before slipping out of the disgusting crevice onto the worse floor like an oilslick, and in a moment he was off, racing along the edges of walls, blindly trying to find the exit. Eventually, after many near misses where he almost got stepped on, he did, and immediately realised he had no idea how to navigate the halls to his destination. Shit. 

On the one hand: he could go very fast and attack things very effectively, as well as easily locate the hotspots in the room. On the other- he was blind and mute, nearly deaf, and he could taste every surface he came into contact with. He couldn’t sense anyone very close, so he decided to take his chances and slid up to the top of the door, clinging to the thin wood frame overtop despite the ominous crick noises it gave in protest. He’d wait till he… Smelt Dana come by, since that seemed to be one of his main senses. Her distinctive perfume hopefully wouldn’t be shared by anyone else.

Well, that was one problem solved, as far as Dana knew. The line for food had begun to clear, given the fact virtually none of the food remained after Doc’s feeding frenzy. Good and bad; they wouldn’t have to wait long, but Alex looked like he was seconds from blacking out. The drinks and pre-made sandwiches remained untouched, much to her relief--she grabbed a couple at random, as well as some juice, knowing very well Alex would refuse water if she tried. Slipping out his credit card again, she had the food paid for and led him out towards the tables. She couldn’t tell if he was confused or annoyed, at this point--maybe a cluster of both. Either way, if he was still his normal self, he probably would have broken something. 

She moved a few paces ahead of Alex, just long enough to dump what she’d bought for him on the unoccupied half of Ragland’s table. Not like she exactly had much time. A frustrated Alex was soon in tow, though her attention was on the pathologist as she spoke in a quick whisper.

“Keep an eye on him--see if you can get some food in him, maybe, he’ll probably only want the meat. I’ll be back.” She didn’t give Ragland the chance to object, making her way back into the cafeteria and towards the hallway as quickly as she could. 

The instant she stepped out the main exit to the hallway, the door behind her crumbled, leaving a certain dark blob in the middle of a pile of splinters, sort of frozen- as if he knew exactly what had happened but didn’t want to admit it.

She barely kept herself from crying out in alarm at the sudden crashing noise, holding both hands over her mouth as she turned to face… a very familiar, notably large blob. 

“For fuck’s sake, Doc,” she mumbled past her hands, before letting both drop back to her sides. Now, how to get a blob with no eyes, no ears and no mouth to follow her. He seemed to figure out where her and Alex were pretty well earlier, so she started walking, only avoiding an all-out run so she didn’t leave him behind if he couldn’t follow. 

He didn’t expect it to break under him, but it made sense. Then Dana started walking off, clearly expecting him to follow, so he did, staying tight to the walls and following the soundfeeling of her footsteps, matched with the strong (to him) smell of her apple perfume. Hopefully she’d correct him if he took a wrong turn, he had no idea what he was doing.

She made sure the distance between them didn’t get too great--all while silently hoping they could get the office without some fuckhead running into them in the hall. A few turns and stops to make sure Doc was headed the right way later, the welcome sight of Dr. Ragland’s office came into view. Dana sped up enough to pull the door open, hoping the fading scent of chicken would be enough to guide Doc in the right direction. The kind of shit she got into nowadays. 

He slipped inside, feeling pretty self conscious from the near silent walk, and bundled up into himself in the corner, trying to plan out how the hell he was going to go about this. Would he make legs first- or a head? Or should he go for the torso and add the rest- but what if he didn’t have enough biomass to do human shape yet? He flattened with frustration, unable to express himself any other way.

Dana pulled the door closed behind herself, and after a moment, slumped to the ground in front of it with a groan. She was used to plans being thrown off (she’d been stuck in a time loop for, what, six days with her dead brother and the virus he made?), but this was a whole new level of bullshit. She watched the now flattened blob from where she sat, though he had no way to see the both tired and concerned look on her face. If she was honest, that was probably a good thing.

“What’s it with you and getting the short end of the stick?” It was an attempt at humor, but she gave up as soon as she tried, falling silent for a moment. “So much for having a plan. Maybe we can get Ragland into the loop, at the least. Nice enough guy, knows his shit and all.” 

Dr. Mercer’s desire to speak- to explain exactly why he didn’t want to bring his one good moral compass friend into this loop- only made him more irritated. He simply didn’t have the facilities for speech- but, maybe… He curled tight to himself, trying to focus on redistributing it into a rough ‘Alex Mercer’ shape, before letting himself spread upwards. For one dizzying moment he forgot how to stand- and nearly dropped his shape when he stumbled. He couldn’t see still- and touching one hand to his face, carefully padding over it, revealed why. He didn’t have eyes, nor a nose, nor a proper mouth- just vague bumps under the hood shape that implied those features, Great. He offered a careful, ‘lips’ closed smile in Dana’s direction. Hopefully this looked less horrifying than he imagined it did, he just wanted to communicate with her. This was probably going to go badly, somehow.

After seeing Alex reform from nothing into a human form, watching Doc do the same wasn’t as unnerving as it could be--excluding the uncanny, sleep paralysis demon appearance he’d gone for. It was a hell of a lot easier to communicate with than a blob, though, so she offered an awkward smile and wave in return. She glanced him over for a moment, then ultimately decided it wasn’t worth dwelling on. Not unless she wanted some vaguely Alex shaped nightmares or something. 

“Better than nothing.” Definitely a more considerate description than “you look like something out of a kid’s nightmares.” She crossed her arms, thinking for a moment. “Getting you back to my apartment is going to be a pain in the ass. You’re not exactly carry size anymore, and the ground’s still gonna be wet from the rain.” A small shrug. “Any ideas? I’m pretty good at charades.” 

The simple body language was lost on him, but he was glad she suggested Charades. He definitely had no idea what to communicate first- usually he’d just rattle his thoughts off until he ran out. He’d have to choose carefully how to do this. After a long moment of thinking, ripples down his body betraying how concentrated he was, he made a zip motion in front of his mouth, then crossed his hands in front of his ‘eyes’. That’d make sure she understood the limitations of a Blacklight which hadn’t consumed people. The main issue out of the way, he had to convey how to get himself to ‘home’- which at this point was just any place not public. 

He pointed to himself, made a round shape with his hands- resisting the idea to just make the shape from his biomass like demented play dough- and then mimed wrapping something up and putting it into a bag. Hopefully that should be clear enough. He let his hands fall to his side, and tried to face more properly where her voice and general warmth was located- though he ended up just looking to the left of her, it was the thought that counted.

Dana watched his motions as carefully as she could, happy she hadn't been bullshitting when she said charades was a talent of hers. Blind and mute--yeah, that made sense. Not like he had the… whatever means Alex used to copy shit like that. The concept of carrying him around like that seemed a pretty fair one, too, except for one major flaw that had her frowning. 

"I don't think I'm strong enough to haul you around, though." The broken doorframe was still fresh on her mind, and would probably be the equivalent of her back if she tried to haul god knows how much biomass. "Once we've got that figured out, then we should be good to go, right?" 

He gave a small shoulder shrug in response, trying not to move too much. Doing the charades without just slipping out of the human shape he was trying so hard to hold onto taxed him alot more than he’d usually care to admit. Hopefully, this was a situation which didn’t repeat itself often. If time moved forwards and he was stuck like this- it’d be an all around horrific experience. As for what to do… Maybe he should try to go back to the cafeteria- Alex would know more than he did. Carefully, trying not to be too obvious, he moved his hand in the air trying to find the desk he knew should be there to orient himself.

Well, that was just about as much as she could ask for. Still watching him for any more charades, though, it was hard to miss Doc trying to orient himself. She knew how much of a stubborn bastard her brother was, though, so if she was going to help, she couldn't be obvious. Not without risking getting her damn head bitten off when he was back to normal. Dana stepped closer to the nearest object--Ragland's desk--and leaned against it, her arms crossed. 

"We can either try that shit again," a small motion to the hallway, "or I can give Ragland a call, tell him to get back here if he's got the chance. You know his number?" 

Did he know his number? Absolutely. Did he have any way to share that information? Not really. He’d get distracted by the damn taste of everything he was touching, or by some noise, and lose count if he tried to show it via fingers or tapping. There was a reason he always scribbled his thoughts down- his short term memory could be likened to a squirrel’s much to his ire- especially when multiple things were happening. And this definitely counted. 

Dana was leaning against the desk now, by the way the main part of her heat had shifted down a little. The desk? He took one very unsteady step towards it, and practically melted with relief he’d guessed right. No need to ask for help- wait. His perspective had shifted when he hit the table, but it took him a second to realise just why. Although he’d been ‘seeing’ from the rough centre of his biomass, he was still taller than this. Yeah, he definitely didn’t have the headspace to handle multiple anythings today if he couldn’t even keep himself looking like himself. He coiled his strange black mass close to him, wondering briefly if he could ‘eat’ the table he rested on, and just resolved to let today go by like a fever dream at this point. He’d lost any control the moment he woke up in a test tube.

...And there went Doc. She watched as he reduced back into a puddle of biomass, giving the quietest of sighs. Bastard or not, he was probably having a god awful time. She stepped closer to him after a moment’s hesitation, dropping into a crouch to better face him. There weren’t exactly many ways you could comfort a bioweapon, but fuck, she might as well try, right? He was her brother and he obviously felt like shit.

“Hey, once midnight hits, everything should be back to normal. Fucking Cinderella style shit and all that.” She chuckled a little, if stiffly, crossing her arms and glancing around the office. “Means we can take as many rest days as we want, though. If I can talk Alex out of harassing you, you can just fucking nap all day tomorrow. That sounds pretty nice right now.” 

While normally he would agree, he was beginning to tire of sleeping all day- the sense of purposelessness was beginning to seep into him. He would usually work on some additions to Blacklight, or test its responses, but the completed project had thrust itself upon him, and now he himself was in Alex’s shoes- and he didn’t have anything to occupy his mind with as much as he tried to ignore it. 

Deciding to try a different tact, he raised himself up, trying to get a feel for what was surrounding him, but his range was pretty limited. He slumped to the desk surface, irritated, only to notice something odd. Repeating thuds, slowly getting louder, just barely shaking the table- not even enough to move it. He was feeling foot steps- which were getting closer. Well- shit. He hoped he guessed the door side right, and threw himself off the desk, slipping under and spreading himself paper thin into the dark flat space, holding the underside of the desk like a living shadow. 

From Dana’s perspective, Doc had just hit the ground and hid for no reason--and just as she moved to check on the poor bastard, the door swung open. Luckily, it was only Ragland and Alex. She offered a small wave, still crouched next to Ragland’s desk… even if an expression of confusion came around the second she realized Alex’s face was covered in sandwich components. Okay. Well, that was one way to make him eat it. She stood, raising a brow as she looked them both over. 

“Sorry for running off on you, Ragland.” A small motion to him as she spoke. “So, uh… how was lunch?”

Ragland’s lips were pursed, his brows furrowed, and his posture very, very, tense. “Considering your brother somehow forgot how to eat food like a normal person- quite the ordeal.” He pulled out a plastic wrapped, quite squished sandwich- evidence of the trials.

Beside him, Alex leaned against the doorframe, squinting around at the office (and briefly scowling at the plastic wrapped sandwich). “I told him I couldn’t,” he muttered, sulking into his hood a little. Dana blinked a few times, but ultimately just sighed--Christ, how many fucking times was she going to sigh today? Whatever. 

“It’s a long story--thanks for trying, anyway.” Most she could ask for when it came to someone who had no idea what was going on--well, less of an idea than anyone else here. “Alex, we’re planning on leaving soon. Any ideas on how to get…” A pause, followed by a vague gesture she hoped he could understand, “out of here?”

Even delirious from hunger and thirst, Alex seemed to get the hint--if Dana had to guess, he just wanted the day to end. “Same thing I use to glide,” he commented rather casually, though maybe he was just tired. He was really, really tired. No wonder people slept so much. “He can make himself lighter without spreading his biomass if he puts his mind to it. Then we can move him easily. I don’t know how to explain how to do that.” A furrow of his brow and a frown. “It’d be easier if he just consumed someone.” 

“Yeah, no, we’re not letting him do that. Why is that your go-to for everything?” 

“I’m sorry- what do you mean if ‘he’ consumed someone?” Ragland looked visibly unsettled, and seemed to be trying to distance himself subtly from the very different to what he remembered Alex Mercer. He might have continued talking, if it wasn’t for the heavy thud of something falling from his desk, and some strange oil like substance pooling out from underneath to rest by Alex’s feet. The strange sight sent chills down his spine more than any gore or wound every could.

Alex, on the other hand, seemed to perk up at the sight of the substance by his feet. He was quick to take a seat on the ground in front of Doc, shuddering a little without any apparent reason. “There you are. Do you know how manipulating density works yet? It’s important. Not as important as consuming, though.” 

“He’s talking about Blacklight, which won’t be consuming anyone.” She gave Alex a pointed look, though he seemed too busy mumbling about virus properties to notice. He sounded like Doc. “They had too much freedom in the cafeteria, that’s all this is. We’re leaving pretty quick--god knows we’ve caused enough problems here for one day, hah.” 

Dr. Mercer was pretty unsettled by the concept of consuming people, if he was honest. While he didn’t mind letting people die, or encouraging murder, even- his mental stomach twisted in knots at the thought of doing it himself. He had a vague idea of the concept Alex was going for with the way the mumblings had started (before he started a quiet murder tutorial), but putting it into practice could prove difficult. He focused on his biomass, contemplative. Rippling was the main way he moved, and stretching was just applied ripples. Carefully, he tried it- only to stop immediately, body spiking up in shock, as a loud rumbling sound interrupted his focus. It died as quickly as he stopped.

Alex was just about to explain the important difference between a stealth attack and a direct one (both could be used any other circumstance, if you knew what you were doing), when a familiar rumble made him pause. And while Dr. Mercer couldn’t see it, he smiled, even if it was the kind of smile that someone contemplating murder had. He mimicked the sound with a soft hum, nodding a bit as though agreeing.

“I’m happy to see you too,” he remarked, though the emotion he described was hardly conveyed in his tone. Either way, Doc was tense now? He was getting some very mixed signals. “It’s either working out your biomass or consuming. Choice wise. Consuming is easiest.” And the right answer, he wanted to add, but he decided now wasn’t the time. 

Dr. Mercer did not quite get the statement Alex chose- and his mind was still churning over it while Alex moved on and the reassuring hum (how the fuck could a hum be reassuring) didn’t help matters. Had he just- made that sound? And Alex returned it like second nature- oh god. The Blacklight virus had the beginnings of social vocalisations- which honestly made sense. He had been trying to mix in some degree of animal traits- so that sort of thing would slip by. He’d just never observed it before since Blacklight was usually the only one of its kind in existence. Mystery solved, he gave a quick hesitant rumble of thanks, and busied himself focusing on the biomass, slowly reducing in size with a fine red mist escaping from his edges.

The second rumble only seemed to make him perk up further, not unlike a kid in a candy store. It was weird, communicating and being responded to in the same way you usually communicated. Like hell if Alex was complaining, though--it was probably the most comforting thing that had happened all day. He watched Dr. Mercer work, nodding in silent approval at the sight of the familiar mist. Good, he was getting the hang of it. He learned it a lot quicker than Alex had, though. 

“Now we need to get you off the ground.” Something he himself normally did by leaping off buildings, but Doc didn’t exactly have the limbs to do that. Maybe he could throw him out the window? Probably should ask first. “You’re light enough to be carried like this, though, or to glide. Gliding is quicker.” 

He thought about it, and decided pretty damn quickly he didn’t intend to rocket around NYC in his current state. Quickly, he darted up Alex until he felt the jacket’s pockets, and slipped inside like a particularly heavy piece of putty. This would do.

That wasn’t what Alex would have picked, but it worked. He stood, a little unbalanced by the heavy weight in his pocket (but less heavy than it could have been). Dana raised a brow, but the way he patted his jacket pocket a couple times said plenty. That was one problem solved. And with the completely lost look on Dr. Ragland’s face, it was about time they gave the poor bastard a break. Dana took the sandwich he was holding out, offering a stiff smile as she motioned Alex towards the door.

“...Thanks for the, y’know, hospitality. But we should probably stop crowding your office.” 

Ragland, who had for now been observing the chaos with tired, confused eyes, was beginning to deeply regret his decision to come in to do paperwork that morning. “Alright- I’m just…” He trailed off, looking for words, but gave up. “Well, you lot don’t seem to be doing harm- despite your chaotic natures. Could you come back tomorrow and give me a proper explanation, though?”

“Sure thing. Trust me, it’d be a fucking relief to explain this whole thing to someone else.” Yeah, that was utter bullshit. But what else was she supposed to say? That tomorrow wouldn’t come? No thanks. Alex waved at Ragland before heading out the door, and Dana was quick to follow, exhaling slowly. A quick glance at the clock as she left said it was only three o’clock. How the fuck. 

“Hey--Alex, wait up.” She picked up the pace to keep up with her very focused, if very drained brother, of whom kept patting his pocket and… humming? Well, he seemed happy, so that was what mattered. Dana took the lead, mentally crossing her fingers. Let this be the last of the bullshit today. Let this be the last of the bullshit today… 

“What now?” 

It was a simple question as she stepped out from her bedroom, regarding both of her brothers with a small frown. Alex was uncharacteristically still, sprawled face-first on her sofa and only shown to be awake by his occasional mumbling to Doc. Who was… climbing something? Who the hell knew. Alex lifted his head enough to look at her, squinting as he tried to see her. Considering Doc’s shit eyesight, she could understand him needing glasses--didn’t make her feel any less bad for him, though. Probably had stupid good senses on any other day. Enough so that he didn’t even know what glasses were. She made a mental note to drop by his apartment and grab them. 

Dr. Mercer, aside from the occasional returned hum, had stayed pretty quiet and still on the journey to what he guessed was Dana’s apartment- but as soon as he knew it was safe he was out of his little travel sized cave and exploring, trying to get a feel for the room- he’d not spent much time there while he had eyes so he had very little clue how things were arranged. Which lead to his current position, halfway up the back of the couch, when Dana questioned what to do. Doc had his priority of mapping out the room, which was good considering his current body refused to rest or acknowledge what time of day it might be. He gave a lower pitched rumble and a ripple in response- the closest thing he could manage to ‘hell if I know’.

“Same here,” Alex mumbled in response without missing a beat. A confused look from Dana spurred him to sit up some, and better explain. “He said he doesn’t know.”

Well, if anyone could understand the blob of viral mass, it was the former blob of viral mass. Not that the translation was ultimately more helpful than the response. “Got anything better than that?”

“No.” Back to burying his face in the arm of the sofa, even as Dana groaned in exasperation. So much for that. She moved further into the living room, glancing out the window for a moment before facing the very odd pair. At least this wasn’t her first time having to figure everything out, simply because her brothers wouldn’t. 

“I doubt that either of you feel like going outside. So, that leaves us with some pretty limited options here.” She leaned against the wall, arms crossed and a single brow raised. “Any ideas about the whole Cross situation? About the weather? Anything? Might as well do something with all the damn daylight we have left.”

“No,” Alex repeated, his voice muffled by the sofa but audibly frustrated. 

Dr. Mercer definitely didn’t want to go outside again- being as he was was a huge pain. It was weird, going to take a step or open his eyes only to realise oh yeah he didn’t fucking have the ways to do that because he was like an overgrown amoeba today for some reason. He continued his careful climb, discovering with some surprise the top of the couch. He wanted to plan out what to do for tomorrow- if he was still like this, if he wasn’t, if something worse happened, if time moved forwards properly- but he had no words to convey his intents. Only the weird rumbling sound he could produce, which apparently Alex could understand somehow. Ill at ease, now on what he guessed was the arm of the sofa near Alec’s warm head, he made a discontented grumble- like he might if he was annoyed as himself- and carefully edged over, wondering if he should jump or if he might break the floor.

Alex turned his head from his face-down position, facing Doc and glancing him over with an exhausted look in his eyes. “He’s frustrated,” he updated Dana, but his focus remained glued on Dr. Mercer. He wanted to note that this would be much easier if he consumed someone, again, but he held his tongue. How the bastard’s insides weren’t threatening to shred him from the urge to consume was beyond him, really--even with the amount of food he’d eaten, it didn’t feel like enough, not to Alex. Maybe he was just better at fighting it off, and it was there, somewhere. Humans had something akin to it, if the cramping of his stomach and the way his mind kept drifting to consuming said anything. Entire Blackwatch bases slaughtered, the thousands dead who once lingered about in his mind. The aftermath was always bad, but in the moment, it felt so right. 

More pain in his stomach, making him grimace for half a second. He needed to stop thinking about food. 

“Well,” Dana broke the stiff silence, her expression contemplative, “worst case scenario, shit doesn’t reset tomorrow, and you’re both stuck like this. We spend it sorting things out for both of you, make sure you know what the hell you’re doing--and everything is slightly less chaotic than today. Alex, you helping Doc with virus shit, me helping you with human shit.” An irritated mumble from the couch, but she continued. “Best case scenario, you two are back to normal, and time stops looping. Between both of those is this,” a vague motion to them both, “getting fixed, but not time.” 

“If that’s the one, we’ll work on our Cross plan. Given all the fucked up shit Blackwatch gets into, he’ll probably know a hell of a lot more than we do. Any thoughts? Speak now, assholes, or forever hold your piece.”

Ok, Dana definitely wasn’t as foolish as he remembered her being when he left his past behind, especially not if she could assess the possibilities in a way so similar to him. Admittedly, he was still feeling that ridiculous endless hunger but he was used to suppressing the general pains of existence enough that he could ignore it. Or, he could move around like a sentient wash cloth and sate himself with all the odd shit found in a living room. Honestly, once he got over the sheer overload of tasting everything unless he consumed it, it wasn’t that bad. His musings were cut off when he fell off the sofa edge, spreading himself out like a pancake in a last minute bid to not fall through- landing instead with the thunk of several textbooks worth of weight. That was enough idle movement for now, he thought with a shiver as he coiled back into the vague sphere shape which made most sense to him.

Alex was perfectly content to leave the planning to Dana, nodding along to her words with only the occasional muttered complaint--only to get the living shit scared out of him by a heavy, loud thud. He was on his feet in seconds, fists clenched tightly enough to whiten his knuckles as he peered around the couch. Oh. It was just Doc. Right. And now everything hurt again. Ignoring the concerned look Dana was giving him, he sat back on the couch with a quiet huff. If one didn’t know better, they could almost guess that he was trying to mimic Doc as he curled up on the couch, once again burying his face in one of the cushions. Dana frowned, and with a quick glance to Doc to make sure he wasn’t going to roll away or something, she took a seat next to Alex. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Her tone lost all of its former sternness, replaced with a tired sort of concern. She tried to set a hand on him, but the way he jolted and shivered the second she brushed by him had her pulling away. Shit. Careful not to move him too much, she glanced past him to the resident orb of biomass. “If you’ve got any calming down tips, that’d be pretty fucking great right now,” she mumbled, careful with the volume of her voice. 

Calming down tips, huh. He didn’t exactly have any of his usual habits available to him- not that he’d be willing to let her find out about that part of himself anytime soon. The two were a vivid beacon of warmth, and Alex’s imprint on the sofa gave him an almost sight like perspective. Alex himself was curled up tight- all his limbs pressed into him and his hushed, quiet, panicked breaths gave him away. Shit. Did falling off really spook him that much? Maybe he was just a kid after all. 

He remained still, trying to think of something he could actually do. Most options were off limits- but one idea, so hopelessly specific to Alex it would work on nearly no one else- stuck out to him. Carefully, he stretched up and pulled himself back onto the sofa, nestling like a bowling ball into the space near Alex, careful not to touch him, and resigned himself to be mocked forever for this. Alex was damn lucky he cared. A soft, low rumble started up, and even though it sounded more like a motorcycle engine down the street, it managed to convey the comforting intent.

Despite Dana’s visible confusion, Alex seemed to relax almost immediately--at least somewhat. He wouldn’t get used to hearing the sound from anyone else, hell no, but that didn’t make it any less helpful. He didn’t even know why he was so high strung today. Well, he was always high strung because he needed to be or someone would die or get kidnapped, but aside from that. It didn’t matter now. He offered a quiet “thanks” in Doc’s direction, even if he didn’t shift from his curled up position for the time being. Dana looked away entirely, doing her best to hide the smile (if a confused one) that had automatically formed on her face. Whatever the hell Doc was doing, it seemed to work. 

A thought came to her, suddenly and sharply--she hadn’t eaten since this morning. All the shit she’d been given Alex, and she didn’t eat any fucking lunch. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, offering them both a genuine smile despite knowing neither of them could actually see her face. 

“How’s pizza sound? I know a place that’s got the best around, and for a pretty damn good price.” Granted, she’d probably have to order five pizzas to please the blob over there, but still. “They’ve got meat lover’s.” 

Alex glanced up at the mention of meat. “What’s pizza.” Doc’s rumbling briefly changed to a higher pitch before forced himself to stop, excitement coming out through his ripples instead. The idea of food even if Alex didn’t quite get it made him quite happy- he was still hungry after all. Now, hopefully she’d ask him what he wanted and not stick him with some bland mess.

“What’s pizza? The best fucking thing on the goddamn planet.” Dana grinned, and she couldn’t help a light little laugh at Doc’s obvious excitement--it was probably the most happy she’d seen him in years, after all. “So that’s either a meat lover’s for me, or a barbeque--god, I haven’t had one of those in forever. Now, for you two--probably meat lover’s for Alex. Doc?”

Some charades and translations from Alex later, Dana was standing at the window, phone at her ear as it rang. On one hand, she was looking forward to some pizza. It’d be a good way to finish the day off. On the other… she glanced to her brothers, doing her best to not make any of her feelings visible.

After all, who the fuck puts those kinds of things on a pizza? It felt like she was committing some horrible crime against pizzakind, just thinking about Doc and Alex’s orders.


	8. r7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally, the chapter you've all been waiting for!
> 
> ok probably not, but i like to be dramatic. enjoy! slight warning, things get a bit brutal at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (CW: Flooding, Cave in)

Never did Alex think he would be happy to feel the cold glass of a test tube pressing against him, but here he was. He sent a ripple across his entire formless body, and was delighted when it responded like it should have. He’d spent a lot of time wondering what it was like to be truly human when he’d first learned about his true identity, and after yesterday, he could conclude that being a human fucking sucked. 

And today, he was hungry and full of energy--the urge to lash out all the frustration and anxiety built up from his brief time as a human was almost overwhelming. The only thing keeping it in check was a humming sound, putting him at ease despite his current state of mind. 

He broke the test tube in one swift move, reforming far quicker than he had any other day. Dr. Mercer was already here--what time was it? Didn’t matter. He could barely keep his form, tendrils thrashing off his limbs and a sharp-toothed grin across his features. He didn’t even manage a few seconds of standing still, already pacing what little space he had between the lab tables. 

“I’m going somewhere today.” It was matter-of-fact, unsettling when paired with the smile that had yet to fade. “Where’s the nearest Blackwatch base?”

Although Dr. Mercer had absolutely expected Alex to be stir crazy, he had no way to predict exactly how much. No doubt it could be compared to the euphoria he’d experienced upon drifting awake and seeing again- Alex’d certainly seemed quite uncomfortable yesterday so returning to his natural form was probably the source of all the rampant energy. He managed a surprised half smile, usual dour expression pushed aside. 

“Morning to you too.” Dr. Mercer pulled out a sticker riddled map, and tapped the base barely 4 blocks from the GENTEK grounds. “Not far. You after breakfast before we try to convince Cross or something?”

He drew closer, pale eyes flicking across the map (he could actually see the damn thing!) before he started nodding to himself. Perfect. His mind was buzzing with ideas--maybe he’d go in disguise, maybe he’d go in guns blazing, maybe he’d take an actual gun and blow the fuckers sky high--displayed in numerous ripples across his frame. They wouldn’t see him coming, whatever he chose. 

“Something like that.” Breakfast and a show, to be specific. “I’m hungry, and if I kill enough of their men, Cross’ll come and check it out. Gives us a clear shot at him, and fucks with Blackwatch.” That, and he wanted to destroy as much as he possibly could just to use his powers again. Never missed something until it was gone, as the saying (probably) went. 

“Sounds like a wonderful plan,” Dr. Mercer grinned, eager to see Alex truly at work. The threatening presence from the first time he met him was quick to fade under even a little bit of affection- as proved by the fact he was trusted enough to plan murders with after a single week of time had- not quite passed. With a soft hum on his lips, the vague tune of a catchy rock song he’d heard somewhere, he set off down the hall intending to exit quite subtly- only to nearly walk into a tall man whose face he recognised from Dana’s pilfered data, Alex not far behind. He stopped his walk, looking them over with a scientists’ eye to keep the rising panic from showing.

The man in question regarded the apparent twins with a calm, almost blank expression, save for the slight raise of a scarred brow. His formal attire made it obvious he’d just stepped from a meeting rather than a standard military mission; in much the same way, the manner in which he stiff rolled his shoulders made it obvious this wasn’t his usual mission.

“Morning, Dr. Mercer.” Robert Cross’ voice wasn’t friendly nor aggressive, strictly professional--a tone Alex recognized plenty well. Why the actual hell Cross was in Gentek was beyond him, but he remained quiet, despite the excited gleam in his eyes at the familiar face. “I was told you wouldn’t be here for another few hours. Sorry to interrupt you.” 

Dr. Mercer shook off the surprise at the meeting, and decided that, rather than make a fool of himself, he’d let Alex handle this. He stepped back, and gestured to him, noting the tendril mess of the back of his coat- the guy really couldn’t stay still, huh. “It’s not a problem. In fact, it’s quite convenient. My twin here has been wanting to meet you for some time-” he cut himself off, forcing down the urge to add some sarcastic snarl to the ‘polite’ tone he’d taken, settling for a grimace of a smile.

Shit, they were doing this now? Okay. He tried to get the tendrils flaring just out of sight under control, briefly surprised at how much fighting he had to do for it to work--probably an excitement thing. Either way, here was Cross. He met the man’s gaze, tone as quiet and unphasing as ever as he decided to give him the rundown.

“You don’t remember me, but we’re friends in the future. My sister--I told you about her--and I were sent back in time somehow, and now we’re stuck in a loop of the same day over and over. Doc got caught in the loop on the third day.” A pause, to make sure Cross was listening. “We’re going to get you into the loop, too. First, though, you need to stop being part of Blackwatch.”

Cross stood there through the entire explanation, unyielding, his expression revealing nothing but what seemed to be a growing tiredness the more Alex said. He’d heard his fair share of shit about Gentek’s team, with all the ridicule the general tended to send their way behind their backs; but the detailed sci-fi fantasy of the head of the Blacklight’s sudden twin brother was definitely a new one. What was he even supposed to say to this. After a moment of awkward silence, Cross decided on what he believed to be the best plan of action in this situation.

“...Alright then.” He turned around, and proceeded to start walking the opposite direction. The “twin’s” anti-Blackwatch stance, amongst the other things, wasn’t good. He wasn’t going to call his team on some confused kid, but it was better for both of them if he simply left them be, kept the target off their heads.

Dr. Mercer gave a vague shrug in response, and after scouring the hall for prying eyes, he muttered to Alex, “Well, now you’ve met him. We’ll just have to go steal you a raincoat then you’ll get your breakfast.”

As far as Alex was concerned, that worked perfectly. Just another two days of running into Cross, then. In the meantime… fuck, it was raining, wasn’t it. The Blackwatch base wasn’t that far, he could live with that. While his smile had long since faded, the glint in his eyes hadn’t. Raincoat… he had his senses back, and he’d consumed one a few days back. It wasn’t embedded in his mind, but his memory was good enough for him to track it down. He didn’t worry about getting caught like Doc did, moving right along at his usual, superhuman pace until he could find a coat rack near the door--where a raincoat was hung. He pulled it off and over himself, flattening the biomass beneath it so he could wear it without the bulk.

Maybe he was moving too quickly. His mind was racing, he was so damn eager to fuck Blackwatch over, to feed (the hunger from yesterday hadn’t left him, only worsened), he just couldn’t help it. By the time Doc finally caught up with him, he was rapidly pacing the front door, the floor cracking beneath the force of his steps. He stopped in place when he saw Doc, and stepped toward him, speaking in a low murmur.

“I won’t be able to shapeshift into a disguise that’s believable with this on. I’m planning on going in with armor on. Makes sure they’re not looking for your face.” 

Dr. Mercer nodded, not even trying to prevent the shapeshifter from wrecking GENTEK. He really didn’t care about his workplace, when Alex could leave it. He had no reason to want it to stay intact- especially considering how he felt about their attitudes to him. “This works. Perhaps you’d like to go ahead? I realise now exactly how fast you can go, and it might help you to… burn some of that energy, before you arrive.”

Nothing else needed to be said. Alex was out the door at the suggestion alone, kicking off from the ground and immediately breaking into a glide mid-air. He went through the map Dr. Mercer had shown him in his head, noting where he was and where he’d need to go next. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Dr. Mercer would be interested in following--after all, he was just getting breakfast and doing a little good. This was an ordinary day in his life, far more ordinary than anything else had been.

Once he started to lose altitude, he dropped onto the nearest rooftop, giving him a clear view of the Blackwatch outpost (rain aside). He needed more of these raincoats, though. Patrols, vehicles, no tanks and no viral detectors… oh, this would be easy. He dropped into a crouch, eyeing the commander of the patrol, watching his path and marking where would be the best spot to consume him in his head. Others from inside had the scent of tanks, of artillery and specific weapons he could learn to use if he consumed them. Oh, today was going to be a fucking buffet. 

Dr. Mercer followed on foot, and waited perhaps half a street away from the guards, keen eyes looking through their fancy gates. Today, he could witness Alex’s true strength- his behaviour in combat- so many things. Unbidden, a smirk slipped onto his face. As Alex would feast on soldiers, he would feast upon Alex’s performance. Today would be a buffet.

The commander rounded the corner. Alex rolled his shoulders, his upper layer of biomass hardening and shifting into sleek black armor. He held out his arm, shredding the sleeve of the coat to form a massive blade. The raincoat certainly ruined the effect, but Alex wasn’t exactly here to look cool. The commander would turn his back in three, two, one--

He dropped. The concrete shattered on impact, knocking the closest soldiers off their feet. All except the commander, who he grabbed before he could even hit the ground. He threw him in the air, and with one swift slice, split him in half--the perfect opening for his tendrils, even if he had to further tear apart his only protection from the rain. Didn’t matter, adrenaline was up and nothing could stop him now. Fresh biomass and memories flooded his system, and it was rejuvenating. 

His blade shifted to claws, and he dug them into the ground, sending an array of massive black spikes straight through a nearby cluster of Blackwatch. Bullets hit his armor without effect, their frantic cries for help unheard when he freed his claws and tore through their flesh and armor like paper. As reinforcements began pouring out from the base, he held one of their humvees over his head--they didn’t get to realize their mistake until he threw it, blowing every single person at the front door to pieces. 

It was a massacre. The scent of blood and death hung heavy in the air, mixed with burning flesh and smoke. The ones with knowledge on tanks and the like were still inside. He grabbed the burned remains of the humvee with one hand and tossed it behind him, not even flinching as it blew up the remaining vehicles. He had work to do. 

He stepped into the base, turning every head and getting an array of confused, terrified shouts--”What the fuck IS that?!”

“I don’t care, just fucking shoot it!” 

Gunfire picked up again, but he was already on the move. Split that soldier apart, consume the one beside him, shift to his blade to take off the head of the one approaching him. The telltale sound of a rocket launcher had him forming his shield, blocking the blow with ease even mid-run. He leaped from the ground, bringing the blade down on the head of a second commander, splitting the bastard completely in half. Grab his gun, open fire on the remaining troops, watch them drop like flies. The fight was over as quickly as it had begun.

Why hadn’t he been doing this before? If Blackwatch was this easy to kill, he could just start his days like this. Kill every single member of Blackwatch, then Dana and Doc wouldn’t have shit to worry about. 

From outside the base, however, reinforcements were already inbound. Helicopters soared overhead, dropping down on the rooftops and deploying men. Radios and shouts and engines roared, filling the previously calm morning with complete and utter chaos. Not that Dr. Mercer was given the chance to consider any of it, as the cold barrel of a gun was held directly against the back of his head.

“Done with your little excursion, Mercer?” Cross’ voice came as a low, deep growl, and he wrapped an arm around the scientist’s throat, making sure he had no chance of moving. A quick glance at the notes told him all he needed to know. The twin was a Runner. “I’d start praying to whatever fucking god you can think of. Tell me how to neutralize your friend, and maybe this won’t end as badly as it could.” 

He didn’t even bother trying to escape, all movement stopped as his notebook fell from his hands with the restraint, cold gun muzzle pressed to his temple and the tight grip occupying his thoughts for a solid moment before he realised Cross was talking to him. “And why should I tell you?” He snipped, “I’ve already been shot to death, and the head’s a quicker way to go.”

Cross’ expression didn’t falter, but that didn’t stop something in the back of his mind doing it instead. Already been shot to death? Were both siblings delusional? He glanced between Dr. Mercer and where his men were flooding into the base, surely to their deaths if the transmissions he’d received said anything. Cross didn’t move--save for the silent shifting of his finger away from the trigger of the gun. Death was important, information more so, and the scientist clearly knew more than he did. He wasn’t stupid.

“Because you just released a Runner on the city of New York, and thousands of people are going to die. If the head is too quick for you, I could always aim for the leg.” He paused, thinking over his words carefully and quietly. “I’m going to ask you again. How do I neutralize him. Because you don’t want to see my method of taking him out if you don’t answer.” 

“Runner?” He barked out a laugh, “Runner’s are like children compared to him. He’s a wonderful fighter, and he’s got the strangest set of morals. He truly does wish to befriend you, Cross, you know.” Perhaps he was being too open-lipped, but the soldier holding him, threatening to kill him, merely listened. “I’m curious what your method of killing him would be- he’s quite indestructible and it’d take me quite some time to create something to bypass that. Time you don’t have, Captain Cross.” 

Cross glanced away, careful to maintain his composure. What he thought to be a Runner--what wasn’t a Runner--and had killed more of his men than he could count wanted to befriend him. Strange morals indeed. There wasn’t exactly a chance in hell he was letting Mercer or the entity he accompanied walk off, but if there was a chance to communicate… then again, Mercer could easily be spouting bullshit. He knew how scientists were, particularly when it came to their fucking work. He nudged the scientist, trying to get him to move forward as he continued to speak. The threat wasn’t exactly something he was taking lightly.

“Drown him.” It was spoken calmly and matter-of-fact, Cross’ gaze flicking between the base he was trying to get Mercer toward and the man himself. “You saying he’s a wonderful fighter only confirmed that. A skilled fighter wouldn’t go out of his way to wear a raincoat when he’s ambushing an enemy base, and I have footage to confirm that being the case. You can tell how stiff he is when it’s in pieces, the way he moves indoors.” A small, grim smile. “So he’s intolerant to water. I lead him to the river and I drag him in. Am I wrong?”

How the fuck. How the actual fuck did Cross figure that out from those fragments of information. For a moment- just a moment- he felt, in some dark corner of his brain that still remembered being Blacklight, the raw terror + the terrible breathlessness even touching a small amount of water had induced in him. Cross was very fucking correct. Shit. He struggled against the grip, suddenly feeling actual fear- though not for himself. “You lay a hand on him-!”

“If he wants to talk,” Cross interjected, something else slipping into his harsh tone--exhaustion? Pity? It was hard to tell--despite himself, “then I will talk. But if he doesn’t come quietly, he’s not going to survive.” The silence said plenty for his hydrophobic hypothesis, but it was the last ditch effort. Despite the impressions of his men that all they stood for was killing threats, he didn’t believe that. The safety of others could be achieved in a way that didn’t end in needless bloodshed. “If you can get him into our custody, neither of you will be harmed. Not on my watch. Do you understand, Mercer? Because I will not hesitate to bury him at the bottom of the fucking ocean if you disagree.” 

His struggles ceased, finding himself surprised by the admission Cross would talk to Alex. Perhaps Alex had found the one Blackwatch member with a heart, “You can talk to him- I doubt he’ll try to kill you even if you shoot him- he’s… Naive like that. But if you take him ‘into custody’ you’re leading the fox to the chicken coop- not that I care.”

Instead of responding, Cross holstered his gun. He kept a firm grip on Mercer’s collar, but leaned into his radio instead. “This is Captain Cross. Do not engage the subject. Leave him to me.” It was all he had to say. He started towards the base, dragging Dr. Mercer behind him without much regard--willing to talk or not, the scientist had chosen to release an unknown and deadly threat on a military outpost. As for the twin, naive enough that being fired at wouldn’t phase him, but still eager to attack. If he had to guess anything right now, the entire plan was Dr. Mercer’s, but he wouldn’t jump to conclusions.

He stepped into the base, and it was like he’d just walked into a Hive. Blood and gore dripping from the walls, bodies and body parts all across the ground like some sort of fucked up carpeting. At the center of the carnage was the suspect, exoskeleton-esque armor concealing his features as he turned to face them both. Cross nudged Dr. Mercer forward, muttering a short but stern, “Explain it to him. I don’t need him killing more of my men.” 

“Explain what?” He all but hissed, “Talk to him yourself.”

Oh, how lucky Dr. Mercer was that Cross had the patience of a saint. He cast the man a side-eyed glance, but stepped forward, careful to avoid the bodies strewn across the ground. Before he could get much closer, Alex dropped down in front of him, splattering one of the bodies and cracking the ground. Cross held his ground, but instead of attacking, the armored weapon of mass destruction… put both hands on his shoulders, tilting his head upward in what Cross could only assume was a smile. 

"Doc convinced you."

"...Not exactly. I'm--" 

"Good. We'll need your help." Alex looked to Doc, nodding in quiet approval and thanks alike. "Blackwatch is sending reinforcements. I should be able to get us out of here before they catch up. The safehouse is still open--" 

"None of us are getting out of here."

“Speak for yourself,” Doc muttered.

Cross glanced back to the scientist, sighing a little to himself. "You're both under arrest. You attacked a Blackwatch base, and Dr. Mercer here is clearly your accomplice, or something akin to that."

"I told you to quit Blackwatch."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for job advice, kid." As if on cue, the doors on all sides of them flung open, and Blackwatch soldiers came rushing in by the dozen. These were the ones Alex was used to, far more armored and aiming a variety of weapons at the trio. Cross wasn't phased--getting shot by accident was a price he was willing to pay. "You can come quietly, or this can become difficult."

“I’m fine with difficult,” Dr. Mercer snapped, the usual foul expression settled on his face once more. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

But before the soldiers could do anything, Alex grabbed Doc and Cross alike, pulling both under his arms before breaking into a dead sprint out the door. He plowed through any remaining soldiers with ease, ignoring the confused shouts from Cross. Where to go--not the safehouse yet, not while Blackwatch was still here. The subway tunnels? Perfect. He sprinted well past any and all of Blackwatch's defenses, not stopping until he found the same abandoned tunnels he'd taken Dana to. He had to skid to a halt once he was there, and once he was sure Blackwatch hadn't followed, he dropped both Cross and Doc from his arms. 

"We should stay here until things calm down."

Doctor Mercer stumbled over to a wall to lean on, rough travel not suiting him so well, and glowered across the dark (though he could still see, thank god) tunnel at Cross. “So Alex, I’ve gone along this far but what made you choose this…” He gestured disdainfully at Cross, “To try to integrate to the loops? He seems perfectly willing to kill both of us, and smart enough too.”

Cross was quick to meet Dr. Mercer’s gaze despite the dark, a hand brushing over the holstered gun. It was only a handgun--he hadn’t exactly prepared for combat, at least not this intensive. And now, Mercer and the threat had taken him as a prisoner. His radio was still in tact, so it’d be easy for him to get his team on their location. But he didn’t, not yet. Call it curiosity. He remained silent, merely watching as the “twin” shifted out of his self-made armor and into his original attire, fragments of a torn up raincoat dropping to the ground beside him. 

“He’s an ally,” Alex asserted, motioning to Cross. “He’s smart, yeah. Almost killed me once. But after that, he was on my side. All I had, even, after Dana…” He trailed off, shaking his head a little. “He’s on our side.” 

“Does someone who’s ‘on our side’ really hold their gun like that?” He nodded his head in Cross’ direction, where the dull silhouette of his arm was clearly ready to draw the weapon, “Besides. He figured out the water issue. He’s likely still got his radio. He’s not an ally yet, Alex.”

“He will be.” Frustration laced Alex’s tone, spikes shifting down his back as a clear display of it. “I didn’t think about how early we got him. But he was helping me before, and he had to have had a reason. He wanted to stop the nuke. He can shoot me a couple times if it makes him feel better. But he’s a friend.” He narrowed his eyes, though the gesture could barely be caught in the low light. “I’ve done this before. I know what I’m doing.” 

“Ah right, the nuke,” Dr. Mercer rolled his eyes, “The nuke which is possibly the cause of this whole mess- he wanted to help stop it. Everyone has self preservation, Alex- just because he chose the murderous bioweapon over the radioactive bomb doesn’t make him trustworthy.”

“He could have just fled with the rest of Blackwatch if it was about self preservation. He wouldn’t have told me what I was, or about Bloodtox, or any of that if his only goal was keeping his own ass safe. You weren’t there.” He stomped on the ground, making the entire tunnel shudder from the force of the impact. The small light barely illuminating the room flickered, but stayed on. “Even Dana thinks we should get him in the loop. She knows what she’s talking about, even if you think I don’t.” 

“I wasn’t there, you’re right. You remember why, don’t you?” He narrowed his gaze, “Because, as I understand it, Blackwatch killed me and you chose my corpse to inhabit. Everything ties back to that rotten organisation- right down to your release. This man refuses to leave behind that filthy rats nest of murderers and thieves- surely that means something!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Alex’s tone shifted, frustrated tantrum shifting into something harsher, something colder. “I’ve consumed their men. I’ve seen everything. All the way back to Hope. I’ve seen how they don’t give two shits about anyone but themselves, how they were willing to nuke an entire city just to stop an infection they wanted to happen.” He stepped towards Dr. Mercer, face obscured by the shadow of his hood but bared teeth still visible. “And even with all of that, I trust Cross. I’m not telling you to trust him, I’m telling you to trust me.” 

Dr. Mercer didn’t give a verbal response, but the way he turned his head away, dark eyes focusing on the vague shape of a door instead of either of his companions, said enough. He didn’t trust anyone- trust didn’t help you survive and it didn’t help you research. It was a discarded skill he’d burnt himself with too many times. Trusting Alex who woke up every day with nought in his head but hunger, simple filial love, and causing problems- he could commit to that less than he could commit to trusting Cross. 

The silence was interrupted by the sound of something clattering to the ground. Cross rested a foot on the discarded radio, making sure both of them had full view as he kicked it away into the dark. Did he trust either of them? Of course not. But worst case scenario, he knew how to handle his own. He stepped towards the odd pair, regarding them both with a silent but sharp gaze. 

“If you’re trying to escape Blackwatch, standing around here won’t do it.” He tilted his head, watching them both for any sudden movements. “Their greatest weakness is a crowd. They can find an isolated target--they can’t find one hiding in plain sight.” A small shrug. “At least, that’s my experience. You have me, so they’ll be hunting you down with everything they have. You don’t exactly steal their most important unit and get away with it.” 

But even as he was trying to actually help them, Alex didn’t seem to be listening. His eyes were glued to a nearby pipe, as though he could hear something the other two couldn’t-- Cross was sure he could, at this point. The piping must have taken damage from the brief fit he threw earlier, though Alex couldn’t seem to make out the problem. He stepped towards it, and before Cross could tell him to stop, he fucking punched it. 

The pipe burst on impact. Gallons of water came rushing out at immense pressure and speed alike, though it was hardly comparable to the ear-splitting, nigh inhuman scream that echoed across the entire tunnel. Alex staggered out from the worst of it, but it was too late--he was completely soaked, and water was pooling on the floor. The force of his footsteps as he desperately clamored to the wall sent cracks right across the concrete, and just like the pipe, the sole light giving them any vision in the tunnels shattered. 

Dr. Mercer was already panicking from the water, scrambling up from the floor onto a cabinet near him as he tried to force down the rising panic that it brought him for no good reason- and then the light went. He clung to his half rotten perch, unseeing eyes scanning the room as his breath picked up. Shit. He couldn’t see anything, Alex was probably going to cause the ceiling to cave in unless he dried enough to breathe, and there was water everywhere. He gripped the old wood beneath him tight, trying to find something he could use to remind himself he was truly human still, splinters barely phasing him through the panicked haze.

Cross had been in this situation before. Springfield, 1998. Underground, wracked with infected, the suffocating dark when Blackwatch wanted to test their resilience and cut the lights. His men dead all around him, barely escaping with his own life. He grit his teeth, and unlike the other two, he didn’t allow himself to panic. His mind went right to the calculative, to finding a solution. 

Alex was first--the water would kill him. He did what he could to adjust to the darkness, following the sound of rushing water to the pipe. The shrieking had ceased, but that was bad, not good. He pressed a hand against the wall--swearing when something slithered away from his touch. But until his eyes adjusted, hearing and touch were all he had to go off of. He continued to run his hands over the wall, more vine like objects slipping away every time he brushed by them. Whatever that was, didn’t matter. He knelt down, brushing his hands along the ground. No Alex. Wherever the poor kid was, he wasn’t in the water, which meant he wasn’t dead. 

“Mercer!” He called out, though the rushing water did a damn good job of blocking out his voice. “MERCER! I can get you out of here, but I need noise--continuous noise!” 

Dr. Mercer stiffened, head swivelling to where Cross was speaking from with wide eyed focus despite the lack of use for it. Continuous noise- he doubted he could manage speech without his words getting stuck in his throat, but he didn’t have to speak. He unclenched one hand, and started a shakey, then steady tap of nails on wood. It wasn’t loud enough- the water sound kept drowning it out. He grit his teeth, and tried the other tactic he had any hope of working. Humming, jerky and unstable, was… not completely drowned out. He kept it up, hoping Cross’ promise held water. 

Cross remained as still as he could, listening for any sort of noise--stomping, talking, anything. He nearly missed the hum, simply on account of shrugging it off as other pipes, but the sound was too uneven to be machinery. Mercer. He started off towards the sound, dropping down to the subway rails (and soaking his pants in the process), when something began to rumble. It was a deep, loud sound that caused the entire tunnel to shudder. For a moment, he thought it was an approaching train, but the origin of the sound was wrong--it was above him, all around him. The Blackwatch soldier looked above him.

Even in the dark, he could see it--the pulsating streaks of red throughout the black mass, crawling further and further down the tunnel as it, no, he attempted to spread. Runners are like children compared to him. The viral mass above him could infect an entire city in a heartbeat--Cross and Mercer were probably already on death’s row. The virus rumbled, even as the concrete began to crack just behind him, disturbed by the weight and vibrations. 

They needed to get out of here. Now. 

Cross clamored to the other side of the tunnel, muting both the rumbles and roaring water to try and pinpoint the humming--there. Keeping his hand against the wall to ensure he didn’t slip, the sound of rapid breaths finally became clear to him against all the other noise. 

“Mercer.” His tone was level and calm, even with the fact they were both dead if they hung around here too long. “Follow the sound of my voice. We need to move.”

For a long moment, Dr. Mercer simply didn’t understand why Cross was insistent on moving. Alex was just talking back to him, a simple way of saying ‘I’m alive, I’m not dead’ to match his own call. Then he heard the cracks of concrete above them, and had to swallow the fact Alex was probably going to cause a cave in. “We can’t move,” Dr. Mercer whispered, as whispering was all he could muster. “The water- Alex can’t touch it. We can’t leave him behind Cross. The water--” He continued the humming, trying to regain his breath from his clamped up throat enough to talk. “The water hurts so much Cross.”

“That’s why you won’t touch the water.” His voice shifted to a soft, almost impossibly delicate murmur, and he reached for Dr. Mercer--offering to carry him. He hadn’t been soaked just yet, only a few droplets on his shirt and the knee down. “I don’t know how to move Alex. That’s the problem. But we won’t leave him.” A small glance at the virus on the ceiling. “If I can carry you to a drier section of the tunnels, I can figure out how to help him. Do you understand?” 

He flinched when the hand brushed him, but after a moment when he didn’t have any other things happen and Cross kept talking, logic and comfort mingling in his tone, he managed to relax a small amount. He could tell Cross wasn’t too far in front of him, by the position of his voice. Carefully, he released his death grip on the wood, and let a shakey breath out. “It’s not- me that it hurts. He’s just scared and hurt.”

Even if Mercer was right--humans weren’t hurt by water, not just by contact--he was still afraid, which made getting him out of here mandatory. And he was the only one Cross knew how to move, because fuck, how was he supposed to carry a giant viral mass? He kept any further comments on it to himself, however; instead, he stepped forward, doing what he could to get a careful but firm grip on the scientist. Less than an hour ago, these were the two most wanted criminals in the city of New York. Now he was helping a couple scared kids, in an abandoned subway tunnel that was starting to flood. Just a day in the life, he supposed. Every creak from above had him exhaling slowly, maintaining his composure despite it all. 

With Dr. Mercer in his arms, he turned--but a loud, echoing crack from above had him freezing in place. Cross broke into a full-force sprint, gritting his teeth as he tried to outrun the inevitable rubble. But no matter how fast he could run, the weight of the virus above them was too much. The ceiling finally met its limit. It caved in, dropping tons of concrete and viral mass directly onto both the Blackwatch captain and scientist. The crash echoed down the tunnels, blended with the sound of screams. 

The rubble steadied, and it went silent, the stench of blood heavy in the air.


	9. r8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how they keep getting themselves into these situations is beyond me

Dr. Mercer shot bolt upright in his bed, all cold sweat and wild eyes. Death by crushing and drowning while his own blood pooled around him into the water- he could say with certainty he preferred guns to that slow and painful mess. He ran one clammy hand through his over gelled hair and sighed. It wasn’t even dawn yet. After a long time of staring blankly out the window, rain doing little to soothe his nerves, he dragged himself out of bed and started the walk to Gentek, fabric hood doing even less to protect him from the drizzle. 

He felt too sick to the stomach to consider eating, so he would work off the feeling. There was always that original redlight sample to mess with- although he wouldn’t try going down the same path as he had for blacklight. That was years worth of modifications which had culminated in Alex, not to mention the fact half the supplies he needed weren’t here anymore. The receptionist, as usual, gave him side eyes as he walked by, slumped posture and leather jack invoking the image of a depressed biker teen. 

Dr. Mercer settled at his desk, and with a yawn he turned on the lab’s Computer and loaded up the spreadsheets detailing the changes, tired eyes scanning numbers and codes as he scrolled. This was familiar. This was something he knew well. He’d just review this, instead of thinking about his yesterday, and wait for the stormy vial of Blacklight to break like some unholy jack in the box.This was familiar.

But the vial didn’t break. There was the occasional fracture in the glass, spreading across its surface, but no attempt made by the virus to break free of his containment. How long had he been awake--hours? Something along those lines. Enough for him to replay what happened over and over in his head, enough for him to confirm that his stupid water phobia had gotten two allies killed. He’d seen both their bloody remains as he’d clawed his way out of the rubble, suffocating and having lost a great deal of biomass. He writhed in his containment, tendrils smacking against the glass walls. 

Maybe he’d stay in here today--until he inevitably went stir crazy from his self-directed frustration and anger. He’d just run off alone when that happened. Alex settled at the bottom of the test tube, rippling in an attempt to soothe his nerves. It was one thing to get people you cared about killed. It was another to kill them.

But, this was a day in the life of two Mercers, so nothing ever went according to plan. Moments after Alex came to rest, the door to the lab was pushed open. In stepped Robert Cross, idly scanning the area; this time around, he was in full armor, a flashlight and his taser both hanging from his belt. His gaze settled on Doc, and something flickered in his eyes, if for half a second. 

“Dr. Mercer.” He nodded in greeting, holding his hands behind his back and not ceasing his methodical search of the room. “Sorry for barging in. I had extra time after a meeting with Dr. McMullen, and I wanted to see Project Blacklight at work.” Had he been in this situation before? It was an odd hunch, and there was something about a twin, but he brushed it off. 

Dr. Mercer straightened up as he entered, looking with tired eyes at Cross. The man who’d tried to save him, despite the fact both of them died anyway. Perhaps he could have.. Some respect for him. But this was a new day and he looked like he was after something- not to mention like he was prepared to fight. He leaned back, trying to appear relaxed. “You want to see Blacklight, Genteks little bioweapon, at work?” He flicked his gaze to the fractured vial, willing Alex not to come jumping out. “I wasn’t planning on running any experiments today, you know.”

“Something like that.” Cross shrugged, stepping towards Dr. Mercer and letting his gaze settle on the vial--cracking, but not broken. A chill ran up his spine, but again, he shook it off. “Nothing at all? I would’ve thought you worked on it constantly, with all the advancements Dr. McMullen talks about.” It was either an attempt at a joke, or a snarky remark--Cross’ expression and neutral tone made it impossible to tell. “You might want to change its containment. If that breaks, we’ll both be in trouble.”

Dr. Mercer rolled his eyes, irritation dripping from every syllable, “I was planning on reviewing its code and planning out the next gene change today, actually. I don’t need to constantly handle it like play dough to work on it.” 

If Cross was looking for a fight with the snark, perhaps he should give it to him. He grabbed a beaker from his desk, uncorked the vial and shook Alex out into it, walking away to rummage in a store cupboard full of glassware, hiding his smirk. “Play nice with Captain Cross, he insists I should get you a fresh vial.” 

“My line of work involves constant handling. Pardon me for making a guess.” He raised a brow, only to watch as Dr. Mercer… took the bioweapon and poured it into a beaker, completely unsealed and without a care in the world. Even the virus seemed to resist his decision, clinging to the breaking test tube before landing in the beaker with a heavy thud. The beaker completely shattered from the force of the impact, leaving a pile of broken glass and a pile of virus. Cross wasn’t an expert on viruses (only containing and killing them), but he was pretty sure that was a bad thing.

“Mercer, your virus is leaving.” It was all he had to offer as the blob slunk to the floor, leaving a crater where it impacted before beginning to spread. Cross merely stepped away, watching as the mass stilled and resorted to something akin to sulking on the floor. Why he guessed that was beyond him--call it a hunch. “I think you need a bigger test tube.” 

Dr. Mercer ceased his rummaging to turn around, and when he finally spotted the sulking blob he sighed. Carefully, he moved closer until he was crouched what could be called dangerously close to it. “Come on now, there’s no need for that. People die all the time.”

As Dr. Mercer crouched next to him, the virus let out a shriek, spiking up and backing away like a pissed off cat. While Cross was still stuck on the fact the virus had made noise, Doc would get Alex’s point just fine; Fuck off, leave me alone, and other such variations of the phrase. Yes, people died all the time, but that didn’t change the fact two of his friends had died because of something stupid, and he refused to let it go. Alex pressed himself against the table, readying another screech if Doc didn’t get the point.

He threw his hands up in response. “Really! You’re throwing a tantrum because I said two sentences! I’m the one who died you know, I should be the one sulking under a table.” He sighed, and turned to Cross with an exasperated shrug. “Well, now you’ve seen him in action. What do you think?”

What did he think. There was Mercer, having an argument with a blob of viral mass about literally dying, while said virus was apparently throwing a tantrum like an upset kid. It was like a scene from a cartoon, or maybe some fucked up sci-fi movie. Frankly, he wasn’t nearly as surprised as he thought he’d be, considering the circumstance. A man arguing with his virus seemed pretty normal, in a weird way. The mention of death spurred something close to familiarity in him, but it was a step behind. 

“Not what I was expecting,” he finally commented, briefly glancing to the door--he was glad he’d closed it behind him. Both of them gave him an uneasy feeling, the type that suggested danger was soon at hand. “Sounds like you two have interesting conversations. Might want to get him to quit the tantrum, though. My men are worried for a potential biological attack, and some of them can get trigger happy.” 

“They’re more interesting when he uses his damn mouth- but he’s being so childish this is all I can hope for, I expect.” He sighed, and looked to the sulking blob. “Are you going to walk out of here or hide somehow? I doubt you’d want to repeat yesterday’s breakfast, all things considered.”

After a moment of grumpy contemplation, Alex slid out from under the table, and reformed in a swirl of tendrils. Not that his mood had changed any; instead of a sulking pile of biomass, he was now a sulking Mercer-shaped biomass, arms crossed as he hid in his hood. But despite having the ability to talk now, he still refused, more content to glower at them both as spikes rippled down his back. The only person he wanted to talk to right now was Dana, and even that was a long shot. He did just murder her brother, not even a day ago. 

The scientist didn’t even bother sighing this time, he just looked at Alex. “I deeply regret my surprise about you being under a month old. You live up to all the stereotypes the instant you leave a combat situation. I suppose you wish to visit Dana then? I don’t mind what you do, though perhaps you should take Cross with you.”

Alex narrowed his eyes, glancing between Doc and Cross and still maintaining his frustrated silence. No, he did not want to visit Dana, actually. Who knows, maybe there’d be a flood there and people would get crushed again. With a stern shake of his head, he was definitely not taking Cross with him either, he turned away and stormed right out the door. Fuck both of them, he was taking a rain coat and sulking on top of a skyscraper. 

As passive as Cross had been, though, he had to draw the line at the bioweapon just walking out the door. With a raised brow to Doc, he headed after him, silently slipping his taser from his belt. Precautions were precautions. Dr. Mercer cast a longing look at his computer, and after putting it to sleep followed out. He was bored, Alex was chaotic- it was easy to guess why.

Alex wasn’t an expert on social things--pretty far from one, if he was honest. But even he could figure out that sulking, not talking, and walking away were all pretty clear ways of saying “leave me alone”. Apparently not, since he could hear both Cross and Doc trailing after him, a fact that had him bristling. Was this payback for the time Alex refused to leave Doc alone? Maybe. But that was different, because this was about Alex, not Doc. Just because he hung around people until they felt better didn’t mean they got to do the same for him. 

Well, the joke was on them. He could outrun a car. 

Alex grabbed the same raincoat he’d stolen the day before, fumbling with the spikes jutting out from his back for a moment before finally pulling it into place. Cross wasn’t far behind. He huffed through his nose and pushed out the door. The sound, scent and feeling of the rain even with the raincoat made him shudder, memories of yesterday making his metaphorical stomach knot. You’re not suffocating yet, focus. With a sharp glance back to Gentek, he broke into a sprint, a blur of color in the rain as he raced down the street. 

By the time Cross even processed what was happening, Alex was long gone. Well, that was bad. He stood at the doorway, watching the rain fall with a neutral expression. 

“He’s gone,” the specialist remarked, not turning his head to greet Mercer. 

“So he is,” Dr. Mercer remarked, unconcerned. “Would you like to go get coffee? He’ll find us or get into trouble eventually, no point chasing him.” 

Cross raised a brow for a moment, considering the offer. “Sure. Can’t say I’m up to much else, and I can tell the general I’m helping you if asked.” A small shrug. “Lead the way, then, Mercer.”

With a simple nod, he started on his way down the streets, weaving around the drifting flocks of businessmen with practiced ease as he scanned the shops for something- starbucks, café nero- no, those weren’t what he was looking for. He ducked through alleyways, dark expression and armored follower warding off any potential pickpockets with ease, until he reached the place. Simple, plain decorations, a name he didn’t know how to pronounce, and no one in sight. He stepped inside with confidence, and strolled up to the counter until some young man scurried out from the backroom to greet him. “I’ll have a mocha with whipped cream, no special orders today.” He turned his head to Cross, “And you?” 

If he was completely honest with himself, Dr. Mercer guiding him past your standard shops and into a back-alley one with considerably fewer visitors didn’t surprise him in the slightest. These were the kinds of places Cross himself was more familiar with, if only because his downtime was spent hard at work, not leisuring at your standard coffee shop. He clasped his hands behind his back as he stood behind Mercer, watching the young man at the counter with an analytic---but not hostile--expression.

“Black Americano, no sugar or creamer, please,” concluded with a small nod. 

The man taking their orders returned the gaze, equally calculating, before putting on a simple smile. “That will be-”

“I’m going to request the usual service, so it’ll be $36.42, not $16.42,” Doc interjected sharply.

“Of course,” The boy replied, not batting an eyelid at the interruption. “Take your seats, your orders will be ready in a moment.” 

As their server disappeared once more, Dr. Mercer walked to one of the tables for two and pulled a chair out for himself sitting down without a word and glaring without thoughts at the blank wall.

Usual service? Ah, he knew where this was going. Still, Cross remained silent, following after Mercer and taking a seat across from him. The man didn’t seem all that interested in talking, so he took up conversation starting himself. “Nice place. Can’t have been easy to find.” 

“You can find anything if you know who to ask,” Dr. Mercer shrugged, though it was hard to distinguish from his jacket. “It’s better than those vermin riddled high street shops.”

“That’s true.” He leaned back in his chair a little, glancing over the empty tables. A slight frown crossed his features, but only for a moment. “I doubt you’re referring to a rodent problem. The general has a similar outlook. The quiet’s a lot nicer, though, I’ll give you that.” A pause, considering; he should probably stop talking like he was debriefing a unit. “You ever work on something other than Blacklight?” Well, that didn’t work. 

“Going straight to my history, huh?” Dr. Mercer cracked a grin- or perhaps a grimace. “Blacklight’s more of a side project that they decided had potential. My main job used to be gene insertion- to make the deadly stuff more deadly, you know- before they found out.”

“It’s something set in stone, isn’t it? Figured it’d be an easy topic.” Cross’ own expression didn’t shift, and save for a quick look his way, he kept his gaze elsewhere. “Mm. Made you a good candidate for Blacklight, I’m sure. Gentek has a penchant for holding onto employees. Making everyone ‘multipurpose’ and whatnot--at least, that’s what I’ve gathered.” This was actually going a lot smoother than he thought it would. “There’s my questions. I should let you pry in return, right? Only fair.” 

“A good candidate? I created Blacklight, Cross.” He paused for a moment, slipping two twenties out of his wallet and placing them on the table, nodding as the server traded them for their drinks. “Now, you seem like a very… Curt man. Any hobbies, perhaps? Pets?”

He made no comment on the creation of Blacklight, instead offering a quick thanks to the server and pulling his drink closer. After blowing on it to help it cool, he took a careful sip, unbothered by the bitter taste as he pondered the question. By the time the cup returned to the table, he had answers in mind, though they were hardly any less curt than everything else about him.

“No hobbies. If I’m not actively deployed, I’m preparing for my next mission. Better to be safe than sorry. As for pets, not currently. I had a tarantula for some time, but the constant moving made the poor thing a hassle for my team.” A shrug. “You?” 

“Since I don’t move much, I got Correlophus, but he’s not much of a pet. I do not envy you having to constantly move a T. As for hobbies... Sleeping?” He sipped his mocha, carefully eating away at the whipped cream settled on top as he watched Cross.

“Correlophus, huh. A pet’s a pet, regardless of what they do. So long as they’re taken care of.” A fraction of a smile crossed his stoic features at the mention of ‘sleeping’ as a hobby, though as the man with no hobbies, he didn’t have the right to be judgemental. “Sounds exciting. Longest amount of sleep I’ve ever had was six hours, back in training.” He finally faced Mercer fully, though it was only to take another few sips of his drink. 

Dr. Mercer’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t allow it any other way.” He paused, as what the soldier across from him said settled in. “And how long ago would that be? I’d be interested to hear the effects of long term mild sleep deprivation.”

“With the training we get, it’s hardly deprivation to us anymore.” It seemed like something he was sure to note, eyes narrowing for half a second before he settled back to his characteristic calm. “Forty-nine, fifty years ago, or something like that. It was the only time I let myself slack off. Learned pretty quick not to do it again.” 

Dr. Mercer’s eyes lit up as Cross began talking, only to darken with horror as he ran the numbers, guessing Cross’ age. “You’ve been training for the military since you were a child?”

He caught the way Mercer’s eyes darkened, though he clearly couldn’t figure out why--if the fact his tone remained completely casual as he continued said anything. “Yes. Guess it depends on what you’d consider a child in my case, but yes. It’s a common practice for people they want on the higher ranks, I assume.” 

“A child is something that hasn’t fully matured. In humans, that’s fairly broadly agreed to be anything before 18- and preteens is what the term is usually reserved for. I assume you know all this, but are you aware child soldiers are banned by the geneva convention?”

“I do, it’s just not the word I usually use to describe my youth.” He paused, blinking a few times, before managing a small, stiff smile. “I am, but I would hardly have considered myself a child soldier, Mercer. My training may have started early, but we weren’t actually brought onto the field for a while. I didn’t even learn to fire a gun until I was seven or eight, though my memory might be failing me there.” 

Mercer huffed, “You’re missing the point. Training children is illegal, because it lets you mold people to your wishes. Normalizing war, guns, chain of command- its got some nifty benefits for the people in the higher ranks. Whether or not you went to combat is irrelevant.”

He went quiet for a good moment. Taking a sip of his coffee, he was clearly thinking it over--if his expression didn’t show it, the subtle tightening of his grip on his drink did. It wasn’t as though Mercer was telling him anything he didn’t know; in any case except SpecOps, making soldiers out of children was horrific. But it was one of the first things they’d taught him in his youth. Some may try to make you question your position, your place in this world. But you know better. Ultimately, Cross just sighed into his drink, concluding it all with a shrug.

“If it makes you feel better, the initiative I was a part of is no longer active.” Instead, it was more top secret, more buried in Blackwatch. “It is what it is. Unfortunate as the circumstances may have been, I still have a job to do.”

The scientist sipped his mug in turn, but decided to change the direction of his probing, “Does that job include murdering Alex if you find him?”

Cross was sitting up straight in his chair by now, any relaxation clearly gone from him. Or, more accurately, he stopped trying to pretend it was there in the first place; they were talking business, now. “No. Unless he causes explicit harm to anyone, I only intend to bring him back into Gentek. If he shows any sign of lethal force being genuinely necessary, I would have no choice. From what I’ve seen of him… I can’t say I’m certain what he’ll pick.” He regarded Dr. Mercer for a moment. “So, you tell me. Am I going to need to kill Alex when I find him?” 

“Depends. He doesn’t seem inclined to go on a murder spree today, but who knows with him.” He shrugged, and sipped the last dregs of his coffee, letting the caffeine relax him. “I suspect we’d hear something if he decided to do that, though.”

“In an instant.” He tapped on the radio hooked to his belt; it would have been screaming with soldiers begging for commands if anything had happened. “Hopefully, all I’ll need to do is stun him, and that’s assuming he’s as uncooperative as he was in Gentek. I’m not looking to drive him towards any…” He trailed off, frowning a little to himself. Deja vu was frequent, today, though he couldn’t even begin to think of what water would have to do with anything. It was everywhere, practically the most basic thing for them to make the virus immune to. He shook it off. “We should get an idea of his location, at the least. Losing the local bioweapon doesn’t look great on a report.” 

In response, Mercer let a small smirk slip onto his grim face. “No need for a bad report if you simply don’t report it.”

Cross didn’t miss a beat, meeting the smirk with a quick scoff. “No need for any reports once the general has you fired for omitting details of a mission.” With that, he focused on finishing the rest of his coffee--or, at least, he tried to finish his coffee. He didn’t get very far, distracted by the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement outside, up until the virus in question came rushing through the door. He skidded to a halt just before reaching their table, unbothered by the shift of friction between concrete and the sleek floor.

He didn’t even get a word out before the crack of a gunshot rang through the air. The barista, now on their side of the counter, had caught him off guard; the handgun’s bullet pierced straight through his head, and he sunk to his knees beside them. The worker wasn’t even content with that, reloading and firing a couple extra shots into his slumped body.

Although the gunshots surprised him- nearly more than Alex’s entrance, Dr. Mercer didn’t get up, or even go to check on Alex who was a hole riddled mimic with tendrils whipping out, He finished his coffee, “This is what I meant- it’s a good, reliable, safe place.” 

Cross wasn’t phased by either, though he had stopped sipping his coffee long enough to watch Alex go down. Found their missing bioweapon. Shots like that would have killed a person in an instant, but that required organs--something he could safely guess a virus didn’t need. “So it seems. If I had somewhere to hang out where any threat could be neutralized, I’d feel pretty safe too.” 

Alex was soon back on his feet, and before he could even finish regenerating, he lunged at the barista. Shifting to his claws, he impaled the man on them, before promptly consuming him in a storm of tendrils. The gun clattered to the ground, only for him to pick it right back up and store it in one of his “pockets.”

“Asshole,” he mumbled, turning to face the two people he’d actually come in to talk to. Cross was already on his feet, taser out and ready, but it didn’t phase him. He glanced at their cups for a moment, then back at them. “Can I have some.” 

“You just killed the Barista, you’ll have to make it yourself.”

A shrug. “He knew how to make it, so I know how to make it.” Alex turned back towards the counter, climbing over it and looking over all the machines before getting to work. Cross was less nonchalant. Running around Manhattan, he could excuse. But he did just explain to Doc that Alex killing people would be a problem. He sighed, before flicking his taser, a ball of lightning coming to life at its tip. The virus didn’t even turn around, despite the fact the buzz of the taser was probably giving him a headache.

“Considering the fact I just watched you kill someone, Alex, you’re coming into custody.” Tendrils flared out from the bioweapon’s back… only to be used as aids in the coffee making. For fuck’s sake. He cast Doc a subtly frustrated look, before moving forward, taser readied. “This isn’t a game. I’m willing to use force if you won’t co--”

“It doesn’t even hurt that much.” Alex glanced over his shoulder, raising a brow as he regarded Cross’ defensive stance. “The taser. You don’t have your grenade launcher, so even if you get me to stop moving, it won’t really do anything. Things have changed since we fought. Doc, what’s a good kind of coffee. I’m getting mixed reviews.” 

Doc, for his part, was just watching the drama unfold with no intention of stepping in. “I usually go for sweet stuff- mochas, hot chocolate’s, the like. Try a few different brews if you want.”

“Got it. Cross, what do you like.”

“I’m not giving you coffee recommendations right now, I am trying to contain you.” 

“Barista’s memory says you ordered black coffee. I’ll do that.” 

If Cross were any younger, any less experienced or less patient, he would have been dragging both hands down his face in exasperation. Many of the men on his team would have been at that point well before now, especially the newest of ranks. But Cross didn’t earn the title of Specialist by letting a less than a month old virus frustrate him beyond common sense. Off went the taser, and he returned it to his belt. Bullets didn’t work--electricity barely did. There was something else, a hunch that would get Alex to listen. 

“You can take the taser. Can you take the rain?” Alex stilled, a major accomplishment given the fact he always seemed to be moving nonstop. Gotcha. Cross shifted his hands to rest behind his back. He was ready to contain Alex the same as he had any other biological weapon, but something softened in the back of his mind. This was familiar. The deja vu was too repetitive for it to be a coincidence. “Finish your coffee… coffees. Then we’re going back to Gentek. Understood?”

“He shot me first,” Alex muttered, free tendrils spiking up to match his agitation, but he made no further comment. That was that, then--hopefully. Cross returned to his seat by Dr. Mercer, taking a drink of his cooling coffee. 

“You looking forward to tomorrow?” Doc called to the kitchen, ignoring the grumpy soldier across from him. “It’ll be interesting to see how Cross feels once he remembers.”

“Yeah.” Alex’s tone wasn’t any different than normal, but he seemed to perk up somewhat. His tendrils returned to his back as he began pouring all his creations into one pitcher. “He’ll probably threaten us less when he actually knows what’s going on. That’s how it worked last time. I think.” Unless Cross was the Supreme Hunter the entire time he’d been helping him, and hadn’t even actually helped. No, probably not, given the death of Elizabeth Greene. 

Over the counter he went, before he set a large pitcher of questionably large amounts of caffeine on the table. He continued talking, as though Cross wasn’t sitting right there. “Dana doesn’t know much about him--just what she looked up. I didn’t want to tell her about Karen or the parasite. I don’t think she’d be all that happy with him working with us if she knew he tried to kill me. It was one time.” He picked up the pitcher, offering it to both of them. “Want some?”

“...No,” Cross mumbled, continuing to sip at his own coffee. 

Mercer made a distinctly unsettled sound as the sight and smell of the milky, sugar filled, caffeine rich dark soup hit him. “I don’t think that’s safe for human consumption.” He averted his eyes, looking anywhere he could- just away from that terrifying hell potion, “Enjoy it.”

The virus shrugged, before pressing the pitcher to his chest. His tendrils returned, this time to wrap around the pitcher and absorb both it and its concoction into Alex’s biomass. He shuddered, blinking a few times as the flood of caffeine and sugar hit him like a tidal wave. The people he’d consumed today let out a collective holy shit, and he swayed, only keeping himself on his feet by gripping the table. Even if he immediately broke pieces off said table, slumping to his knees and staring blankly ahead. 

Doc stood up out of his chair, rushing over to get closer. “Alex!” He snapped, worried tone taking a backseat to his sharp manner, thoughts rushing through his head as he tried to think up ways to help him out- of reasons this could be occurring. “What’s going on?”

But Alex, who could hear Blackwatch approaching several blocks away on a normal day, didn’t even react to the scientist’s words or presence. His daze remained--even as tendrils began shifting out of place, half his face and body becoming a mess of thrashing biomass while the other half stayed perfectly intact. The virus didn’t even blink. Cross was on his feet by now, swearing under his breath as he kept his distance from the dozens of hungry tendrils. 

“He’s unresponsive. We need to move him, or knock him out of it,” the Blackwatch captain growled, looking to Doc in expectation. He said it himself, he made Alex--surely he knew what happened when you gave the poor bastard enough caffeine and sugar to kill someone.

Mercer scoffed under his breath. Move him? In this condition? No. What Alex needed was something to snap him out of it. If he had to guess, he’d say it was like a very bad trip, or something. He made a note to himself to test out caffeine if he ever got stuck as Blacklight again- Alex would likely have little control or conscious thought until this wore over and to find a solution he’d need to know exactly what happened. He gripped Alex’s shoulders, one forearm swallowed up by the writhing prickling mass, and muttered, “Just talk to us, Alex.”

With Doc between him and the wall, it would almost seem like Alex was finally focused on him--but his icy gaze was too unfocused, too distant for that to be the case. But where Alex wasn’t focused, his body was; and when it came to survival instincts, consuming all that he could was one of the top priorities. The tendrils began to merge, forming a smaller iteration of the blade he used to tear through Blackwatch. With one clean swipe, Doc’s arm was severed and devoured. But it wasn’t enough, the virus couldn’t shake the caffeine from his system, he needed more. 

He flinched, arm swinging to his side, blood spraying over the floor from the freshly cut vessels, too neatly severed to feel pain just yet. He tightened his other grip on the shoulder, as the fleshy dark vines had trapped him in place, blades shifting in and out of being rapidly. “For fuck’s sake…” Mercer muttered, “Guess Caffeine’s poisonous or a narcotic for Blacklight. Cross, sorry you have to see this twice.”

Cross didn’t even get the chance to respond before Dr. Mercer was dead, tendrils and blades digging mercilessly into their target and shredding him apart, in a way somehow more brutal and feverish than the death of the barista. But he didn’t have time to waste. Cross darted into the kitchen, turning on the sink and filling a pair of pitchers to the brim with water. He was going off a guess, but it was all he had right now. By the time he went back to the front of the cafe, Alex had turned his attention on him, the distant gaze counteracted by the hungry biomass all but clawing its way to Cross. It was the Runner all over again. 

“About time you sobered up, kid.” Cross rushed forward, and before he could be eaten alive, poured the pitcher’s contents right over Alex. His attack stopped immediately, replaced instead by him staggering away and shrieking loud enough to wake the dead. The rain--he could pin him outside. As the virus stopped stumbling away, Cross dumped the second pitcher. And Alex fell right for it, rushing out the door and right into the downpour. By the time he realized his mistake, Cross blocked the door to the cafe, watching as Alex’s screeches turned to screams, then screams to silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I GOT CROSS' AGE WAY WRONG and only realized it well after this chapter and several more were done, oof. sorry about that!!! i should never be allowed to guess ages, ever


	10. r9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drug Addiction CW

Cross awoke with a start. 

Nightmares were far from unfamiliar to him, but that one--the rain against him, the uncharacteristic chill down his spine at killing “Alex”--felt too real. Far too real. He sat up, rubbing his face with a short sigh. A quick glance to his clock told him it was four in the morning; he had an hour to go before he needed to be up. Not that bad, considering his reputation with sleep. Deja vu clawed at the back of his mind, but he forced it down, choosing to instead get out of bed entirely and stretch. 

His apartment was well sized, even if he’d hardly asked to be positioned here. The empty space made him uncomfortable. His place was among his men, in a standard barrack on a stiff mattress. But a position was a position, and with how long the general told them they’d be in New York, he was willing to deal with it. Heading into the kitchen, he looked over his choices: coffee, alcohol, standard food items. A cold beer and a protein bar were his choice of breakfast. Out of the kitchen and into the living room he went, taking a stiff seat on the couch and sipping his beer as he gazed at the black screen of the TV. He didn’t care for it much.

With nothing better to do, Cross went over his plans for the day in silence, rapidly tapping his fingers against his knee. The general wanted him at a meeting in Gentek, to discuss their bioweapon’s progress and the rumors of leaks (though he’d been to enough meetings to know he was only there for coercion and intimidation). Look around their lab after (orders said play it as a tour), noting all potential escapes, marking off any suspicious people for later interrogation. Keep a close eye on one Dr. Alex Mercer… he grimaced as another wave of deja vu hit him, gripping his drink tighter and exhaling through his teeth. He’d done that yesterday, hadn’t he? Kept an eye on Blacklight--no, Alex, and they went out to coffee? 

It didn’t seem right, but even nearly sixty, his memory was phenomenal. The answer was obvious; he’d talk to Mercer and get to the bottom of things. He felt like he needed to check on the guy, anyways. After setting the drink on the table, he stood up, pacing around the room. If today was going to go like he thought it would, he needed to keep his wits about him. 

Unfortunately.

______________________

Elsewhere, a ghost faced Mercer sat on the edge of his bed, clutching one wrist tight enough to leave harsh black bruises. He watched with vacant eyes the grey walls beyond his window slowly grow dark from the light rain. His breath was nearly silent, much too shallow and slow as he tried to force down the memories that clamoured for his attention. The sharp blade slicing through his wrist with barely a stinging feeling- his hand falling deeper into the black flesh pit which formed part of Alex- his entire body getting shredded- it was too much.

He got to his feet slowly, feeling distantly the rough carpet underneath him as he made his way to the bathroom, opening a small box with shaking hands. Empty needles filled it, but there was nothing to put inside them. Right. He was trying to go clean- before all of this began. Stupid decision, really. Ragland had far too much faith in him.

Mercer shook his head with a mute snarl on his lips, and made his way to his kitchen and started to make himself a cup of coffee. Then another. And another. As the cheerful news readers repeated the same damn news as ever, he drank the soothing liquid until his hands weren’t shaking from memories, but from the raw energy it provided him with. When he felt he couldn’t stay still anymore, and his heart felt like it was going to push itself out of his ribcage, he started the walk to Gentek, dark smile and gleaming eyes phasing very few- for this was New York and he was just another stranger amidst the crowds.

He was quite ready to face the day, humming a jerky little tune to himself as he walked the halls. Outside his lab, looming like some malevolent mountain god given human form, lurked Cross. Instantly, his mood soured. Of course, he would still be here. He didn’t realise the loops just yet.

“What do you want, Cross?” Mercer spat out, stuffing his twitching hands deep into his pockets, to match his hunched over glare at the giant of a man.

The harsh words didn’t make the specialist so much as twitch, his frustration from this morning well concealed behind his standard deadpan. He pushed off from the wall, moving to clasp his hands behind his back

“Good morning to you too, Mercer.” He stepped aside, but leaving wasn’t his intention in the slightest; he couldn’t exactly get into the lab if he didn’t let the scientist through. He rolled his shoulders. “I have a few questions for you, that’s all. If now’s a bad time,” a quick glance to where the scientist’s hands were stuffed in his pockets, “I could come back later. Not like today’s all that busy.” 

Mercer’s sharp gaze observed the Specialist for a moment longer than necessary, before he sighed. He forced the door open, key barely a second thought, and stalked inside to near a certain test tube. “Well? Ask your questions, Cross. I didn’t arrive early to entertain you, but now is as good a time as any.” He drummed his fingers on the desk, eyes darting sightlessly around the room as he waited for Cross to gather his thoughts. He just wanted this to be over, and he was hoping Alex would overhear and decide to take over the conversation. He disliked talking a great deal right now.

Cross followed without a word: half because saying anything unnecessary would make Dr. Mercer even less cooperative, half because the deja vu of just stepping into the lab was gnawing at the back of his mind like some rabid animal. He left a good distance between them, even as his gaze remained unwavering on Mercer. This was either going to be a conversation, or an interrogation, and Cross was willing to get his answers either way.

“Good, because if you wanted to entertain me, you’re doing horrible at it.” He offered a bland shrug, before regaining his professional composure. “I’ll start simple. Did we do this yesterday? Meeting in your lab.” 

Mercer scoffed, “Of course we did. How much else do you remember?”

“Helpful, aren’t you. We met here, Alex ran off. We went out for coffee.” He frowned to himself, trying to determine what was the dream and what actually happened. He glanced to the test tube behind Mercer, of which didn’t seem to be stirring in the slightest. “Shit hit the fan. That’s a summary of it. If we did that yesterday, why does it feel like we’re doing it again?” 

The scientist’s face slowly split into a grin- quite the unsettling expression with his features- as Cross spoke his thoughts, “Marvelous. You remember so much! I suppose it feels somewhat like a dream right now?” He tilted his head as if questioning, but his quick speech stopped for far too little time for Cross to even think of responding. 

“Well, it’ll all clear up soon enough, I’ve a feeling Alex- that is, Blacklight- is involved in the recollection process somehow. As for why it feels like we’re doing it again- we are. This is…” He paused, as he tried to sort out the time that had passed. “I believe either the 8th or 9th day that has repeated, though it’s only the third wherein we’ve encountered you.”

Cross was plenty used to keeping up with fast-paced debriefing, so he followed Mercer’s train of thought with ease, even if he raised a brow near the end. The dream and repetition of events explained the deja vu, but it wasn’t exactly easy to accept “we’ve repeated the same day nine times” at face value. He needed more evidence, and the incredulous look in his eyes made that fact obvious. Had he heard this story before, all this shit about looping? It was pretty frustrating, if he was completely honest. 

“Alright.” He didn’t vocalize anything he felt, his tone remaining as level as ever. “Do you know why the day keeps repeating? Or is that still a work in progress. Figuring something out is the key to stopping it, and you sound like you’ve had enough of today.” 

As he thought Mercer hummed idly to himself, turning over the information he had available to himself. Alex was the centre of it all- or he and Dana were. He’d been brought fully in after exactly 3 days, when Alex spoke to him so insistently each day. It seemed nonconsecutive days were ineffective- Ragland seemed merely concerned, rather than the anger he’d displayed upon their first visit’s end. He couldn’t shake the feeling something was missing, but it would come up if it was important, no doubt. 

“I’ve got a few theories regarding the nature of the time loops- nothing conclusive, I still need more data- but no guesses just yet for the why.” He picked up the vial of Blacklight, eyeing the oddly still liquid in a moment of complete silence. Was Alex… Playing dead? The regular vial weighed much less, not to mention the fact it was much less viscous than Alex’s usual consistency. “Until a certain sulking child decides to come out and say hello, there’s not much else I can offer you.”

“Sounds like you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out. Theories are better than nothing.” He let his hands fall to his sides rather than behind his back, watching the still vial with narrowed eyes and a small frown. “Considering the fact you both died yesterday, he has good reason to sulk. What you gave me is enough for me to work with for now.” 

“Work with?” Mercer’s gaze was narrow, and tension slipped into his usual hunched over posture, “What do you plan to do with this information, Blackwatch?” The last word was loaded with all the typical venom his voice had lacked previously, tenfold.

“That depends.” Cross stepped forward, meeting the venom head-on. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he planned to do with the information. He could tell the general, but why would he? He wasn’t a mindless drone; he had plenty of secrets the general didn’t know the slightest thing about. But Mercer’s assumption had him narrowing his eyes, and if he were any younger, he would have gone and said every detail to the general out of sheer spite. Luckily, he was a much bigger man than that. “You’ve spent time with me, Mercer. Why would I waste my breath reporting something that would make me sound delusional to my team. If you can come up with a reason, then I’ll share with them.”

“Otherwise,” he continued, remaining as level-headed as ever, “I meant what I can personally work with. I’m not blindly loyal in my methods, and I think that’s a fact about me that would do you good to learn.” 

The virus in the vial shifted. It was a bare movement, a single tendril retracting from where it’d been pressed against the glass, but it was movement. Sulking or not, it seemed he couldn't resist the urge to eavesdrop. 

Mercer’s gaze remained narrowed with suspicion, even as Cross came closer and almost threatened him, standing much too close for comfort. Perhaps his words held logic, but the dark, enveloping fear of someone stealing his work overrode any sense he had. He stopped drumming his fingers idly, opting instead to curl his fingers into a tight fist on the table. His eyes followed the simple motion of Alex, but he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t want to startle him into staying there for longer if he was starting to come out of his shell. 

He opted instead to reply to Cross, idle glare barely phasing him “You soldiers are all the same, and I don’t trust on principle. It’s simple.” His heart was a distracting jackhammer, and staying still was starting to become impossible. As if he was simply done with the conversation, he moved to the back of the lab and started checking the communal fridge for something. The containers full of moulds, petri dishes, and little vials of viruses filled the majority of it, but one shelf had some poor sap’s sandwich in it. He stood behind the door of the fridge, just barely hidden from view by the giant storage unit, and stared mindlessly within. Better than talking to Cross or trying to coerce Alex out of his vial. 

Leave it to a scientist to jump right to the more paranoid conclusion. Cross followed Dr. Mercer’s movements with his eyes, up until he decided to hide in the fridge instead of converse. If that was what he felt like doing, it was whatever. But he, personally, wanted to get to the bottom of things, and Mercer’s uncooperative nature left him with one other choice. 

“Think you can coax the resident sulking child out?” Despite the fact Mercer’s back was to him, he motioned to the vial. “I prefer to work in my free time, and he likely knows the loops as well as you do. We’ll head out, and I’ll talk to him elsewhere.”

“I doubt it.” Mercer rolled his eyes, knowing Cross couldn’t see him, “He seems quite torn up about murdering someone he knows, as compared to a soldier. I don’t see why there’s a difference, but it is what it is.”

“Accidental versus intentional kills. Killing an enemy is different from accidentally killing an ally.” He explained it in a casual, matter-of-fact tone, despite the fact he was clearly speaking from experience. “Kid’s got a pretty decent moral set, too, from what I remember. Only makes it worse.” The specialist concluded with a small shrug, leaning against one of the nearby tables. “I could try and get him out. Might work a little better.” Mostly because he wouldn’t sit there calling him a sulking child the whole time, but he’d digress. 

Mercer closed the fridge, leaning on it to watch. “Go ahead, try it.” He smirked, “He doesn’t bite.”

“Doesn’t bite, no,” Cross returned, a single brow raised before he turned his attention entirely to the vial. Picking it up from the rack, he held it a decent distance from himself, an action more for Alex’s safety than his own. The virus didn’t stir. Rather than matching Dr. Mercer’s snarky tone towards him, however, he spoke softly and carefully, watching the every movement of the biomass.

“It wasn’t your fault.” He paused, but when Alex still refused to respond, continued. “I regret to inform you that I saw the entire thing, too, so you can’t sit here claiming I’m wrong. You were essentially drugged, and you had no idea your body would have responded the way it did. You acted on instinct, attacked a perceived threat because you weren’t in a state to know better. I’ve seen it plenty of times. If you decide to just sit here and rot away for the rest of eternity, I can’t exactly stop you. But it won’t make anything better. You have to accept that it was an accident, and move on. Do you understand?”

A beat. Two. Slowly, the mass in the vial started to stir, and Cross took the hint. Pulling the lid off the vial, he turned it upside down, letting Alex slip out and properly reform. Even if he was visibly sulking, he was actually out. The Blackwatch captain glanced to Dr. Mercer, doing absolutely nothing to cover up the smug look in his eyes.

“Got him out.” 

“So you did,” Dr. Mercer replied, not moving from his position resting on the fridge. What was there to be smug about? “Now, why don’t you two…” He made a vague gesture, “Talk it out and such. Go on a stroll. Murder people together. Bonding with shared hobbies is effective, I’ve heard.”

“It’s raining,” Alex grumbled, sinking further into his jackets with some thrashing tendrils to back him up. Cross, on the other hand, merely shrugged, already making his way to the door and motioning for Alex to follow after him. The virus lingered, however, watching Doc in silence for a good, long moment. He started to reach toward him, but swiftly reconsidered, shoving it in one of his coat pockets and averting his eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

With that, he was gone, out the door and already a ways ahead of Cross. The latter was quick to follow, leaving Dr. Mercer alone in the lab. Dr. Mercer scoffed, and quietly, aware how sensitive the virus’ hearing could be, muttered as he moved to the computer, “It’s not your fault...”

By the time Cross caught up with Alex, the virus was crouched at the front door, listening to the rain and traffic with a solemn expression. He really would have been fine just staying in that stupid test tube all day, but no, he had to get Cross integrated into the damn loop. As for the whole blame thing, he understood. He knew he shouldn’t have been pinning it on himself, but what else was he supposed to do? Everything was so damn complicated. As much as he hated the constant noise of the consumed in his head, at least he could actually figure things out with them there. He was running blind.

A hand hovered behind him, Cross’ attempt to reach out and show comfort--Alex answered it with a harsh swat from one of his tendrils. He definitely wasn’t repeating yesterday and running off, but he still wanted to be left the hell alone. Cross sighed through his nose, before taking a seat at Alex’s side. He didn’t exactly have infinite time. Loop or not, he still had a job to do, and he’d be damned if he was going to miss it. Alex didn’t exactly seem interested in talking, either, but if yesterday and the day before said anything, leaving him alone was a horrible idea.

That left him with one option, for better or for worse.

“You can either sit here and mope,” Cross finally said, keeping his deadpan gaze on the door, “or you can follow me around while I’m on duty. Mercer doesn’t want to be bothered, and you can’t go outside because it’s raining. Your pick.”

“Why would I want to watch Blackwatch.” He practically spat the word, casting Cross a dark look. What the hell did Alex and Mercer have against his unit? After a moment of consideration, though, Alex huffed, sinking into his collar with an irritated grumble. “Fine. But no one said I’m not killing any of them.” 

“You better not, you little shit.”

"Like you can do anything to stop me." Alex remarked; Cross responded only with a slight raise of a brow. Right. There was a lot he could do to stop him. He groaned, but after a moment, begrudgingly pushed himself back to his feet. Cross followed suit, taking the lead before Alex could make any potential objections. At least he could pry more at Blackwatch, see if he could find out anything that Dana hadn't yet.

They headed down the hall in silence for the most part, up until they stepped into an elevator. Cross pressed the button for Gentek's top floor, promptly backing away from the panel and leaning against one of the walls. Alex had half the mind to start pressing all the buttons, just to be annoying, but he didn't want to piss Cross off. Not right now, anyway; he was just in a crummy mood. 

"What are you doing that's such a big deal, anyway?" It was more of an idle grumble than an honest question, a better sound than the obnoxious elevator music as they climbed countless floors. He could run up the wall at five times the speed this slow ass elevator moved.

"The general requested my presence at a meeting with Dr. McMullen--"

"--You've gotta be shitting me. You're taking me to McMullen and fucking Randall?"

"I said it was your pick."

"Yeah, and you didn't fucking say it was that sonuvabitch!" Just his luck. Alex scowled, ducking into his hood and rippling in frustration. "There's no way I'm not killin' him."

"And if you kill him, I'm trapping your ass in a tank and driving us both into the river. I made my stance pretty clear." Instead of answering, Alex slunk into the corner, glaring daggers at the floor and continuing to bristle. Unphased, the captain merely continued. "As far as either of them are concerned, you're Mercer. You stopped me in the hall to show me some of the new details on Blacklight. Understood?'

"Yeah, I get it." Iit was a blatantly irritated mutter, but frankly, much better than Cross was expecting.

A few more minutes of silence, and the elevator came to a stop. Alex darted out the second the doors opened, waiting not-so-patiently for Cross to follow suit. It was early enough in the morning that the halls were mostly empty, enabling them to avoid suspicion--particularly over the fact Dr. Mercer was in two places at once. The closer they got to McMullen's office--the more vivid the scent of Randall became, as well as the memory of McMullen taking his own life--the harder it was for Alex to keep his cool. He felt disdain for Blackwatch, but it was nothing compared to how he felt about Randall. That was pure, unadulterated hatred, festering just behind pale eyes and grit teeth.

A duo of lower-ranked Blackwatch greeted them at the door, saluting to Cross and casting Alex a nervous glance as the two stepped into the room. Randall and McMullen were already seated, in the midst of a discussion when the two arrived.

"Their abilities make them phenomenally useful to us, Director McMullen. If I didn't think we could control them, I wouldn't--" Randall's words died off the second Cross and Alex came into view. He narrowed his eyes, casting a quick glance to McMullen. "Good morning, Captain."

"Sir." Cross nodded in acknowledgement--the obedience made Alex writhe beneath the surface. "I apologize for the delay. Dr. Mercer was giving me some details on the Blacklight project."

"You haven't missed anything important." The captain moved to stand at ease beside Randall, casting a quick glance to Alex as Randall directed attention toward him. "Director, feel free to handle your employee first."

McMullen cast Mercer an irritated glance, but it was nothing compared to the obvious disdain he held for Randall before his attention shifted. It was a softer sort of hatred, a nettle sting against cobra venom, if one felt inclined to scale it.

"You were supposed to come in at noon, but since you're here and in a talkative mood..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated by something, "Perhaps your voice could help sway the General. Give him a run down on why we shouldn't use Greene, would you?" 

He frowned, seeing Alex's expression wasn't twisting as he was used to seeing from the strange Virologist. Every word, every cue, was something to be taken in, analysed, repurposed for his own ends- and typically that manifested in a variety of faces and idle tics as he thought. But this time... It was so muted it was almost concerning. "Surely you've not forgotten...?"

Shit. Blending into a crowd was Alex's thing, or taking the place of someone he had all the memories of--not being the center of attention. He felt like a deer in headlights, stiff as a board and meeting McMullen's gaze directly. He was supposed to ask for answers. Not... give answers. It couldn't have been that hard, though; he was asking about Greene, for some reason, and Alex knew plenty about her. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets to make sure he wouldn't impulsively lash out at Randall, he finally spoke.

"I... no. I remember." He glanced away, though he could see Cross shift somewhat out of the corner of his eye. "You can't. She's a monster. If you tried to use her for anything, she'd just escape. Infect everything she touched, no rhyme or reason or anything. It'd be hell. No one would be able to stop it." 

He shouldn't continue. He really shouldn't. But seeing Randall sit there, hearing him without listening, not giving two shits about his warnings, he couldn't keep himself in check. Alex smirked, tilting his head a fraction. "I mean, if you wanna kill thousands of people, then go right ahead. I can't stop you. You'd get a hell of a lot info, too."

Randall, previously just stern, looked taken aback and furious. Alex's grin only widened. "I mean, that's what all of this is about, right? You let her out, you let the virus out, you get to see what it does--"

"Mercer." Cross growled, much to the approval of the general. "Sir, I'll escort him out--"

"No need, Captain." Randall leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers against McMullen's desk--despite the poorly concealed fury in his expression. "He gave his opinion, like asked. I wouldn't say he's convincing," a glance to McMullen, "but clearly experienced."

A ‘fuck you’ hung on Alex's tongue, but he held it back.

McMullen wanted to put his head into his hands, snap a pen- do anything except deal with this. But he was better than that, and he merely adjusted his glasses, staring down Alex. "You know, on days like this you're supposed to call in sick." The simple phrase held alot of emphasis, dripping with a mix of exasperation and irritation. "That wasn't the response I expected- but I doubt you'll speak logic today. Go back home, we don't need you in the lab-"

He was cut off when someone set to knocking on the door, and after a moment a very shaken looking lab tech ran in, "Sorry if you're in a meeting, sir- it's Mercer! He's in- Radiology-" She trailed off, looking with horror at Alex, clearly not sure what was going on.

Randall seemed to get the hint about Alex's supposed "illness", and relaxed, save for a judgemental look--until the radiologist came barging in. To say Randall was unimpressed with Gentek's latest employees would be a drastic understatemen; from what this trip suggested, McMullen was hiring just about anyone he found on the street. He shot a glance to Cross, a silent gesture towards the utterly chaotic scene. He wasn't about to start talking with the drugged man or the dramatic scientist, after all. 

"There's been some kind of a misunderstanding, ma'am." Cross took the hint immediately, stepping forward and grabbing Alex's arm with one hand. Alex started to struggle, but a harsh look and silent threat shut him up. When he'd offerred to watch over Alex, he hardly expected both Mercer and his virus to be fucking idiots. He hardly had the energy to be angry about it--just tired. "Mercer's right here. Whoever you're referring to is probably a tresspasser. Take me there. I'll sort out the situation soon enough."

She nodded mutely, and when she stepped out the door and fiddled with something about her neck, it started an incessant beeping- leading her to turn it off, paling. "We should hurry."

The walk, though tense, was simple enough- it wasn't a long way after all. She turned to them, mouth opened as if to say something, but it was drowned out by bright static- and then she was gone- along with everything else in a fiery white explosion, before the darkness settled in, clicking into place easily.


	11. r10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> quick cw for some descriptions of a panic attack / trauma at the very start of this!! 
> 
> this also goes pretty far down headcanon lane, oop ^^; you can blame me (sketch) for that one

The light. The noise. The pain. 

Every inch of him burned, like nothing had ever burned before. The flames of the explosion scorched through him like was nothing. The top layers of biomass shriveled up and died within seconds; his core mass was melted instantaneously, dropping from the sky when no mass remained. The blaze was replaced by suffocation on all sides; water forcing its way into his system and choking him out, in a dozen places at once as his core tore itself apart to fight gravity.

And he felt it. He felt it all. He was ready to die, he wasn't ready for this, why was he still alive, just let him fucking die _IT HURT SO MUCH MAKE IT STOP JUST MAKE IT STOP--_

His legs suddenly gave out from under him, sending him crashing onto the linoleum floor. He dug his claws (when had he unsheathed them?) into the ground, gasping and wheezing. He tried to get back up (where was he going?), but he was shaking too badly, hitting the ground yet again the second he tried to stabilize himself. Something wet streamed down his face, and he clawed at it, hissing when he could catch his breath. 

He couldn't tell what was going on, nor where he was--but some part of him did, those instincts that kept him alive. With them in control, he could do nothing but scream the first name he was given. 

"RAGLAND--!"

"Hey, shush, it's alright-" A soft voice came from near him, as careful hands wrapped their shaking form in a blanket, carefully propping up the man who'd come to him for help with a well worn pillow. Although he noted the clawed hands, the short tendrils lashing out from every inch of Alex, it made no difference to Ragland. He pulled the blanket close around their shoulders, meeting Alex's gaze with concern. "It's alright now, Alex. You're safe. I promise."

It's alright. A gentle and soothing sound, an utter relief compared to the roaring explosion that still rang in his ears. He whimpered and squirmed as something was pulled around him, but when the two locked eyes, his struggles ceased. It's alright. You're safe. Safe. The word felt surreal to him, he was never safe, but he'd accept it--just this once.

Slowly but surely, some of the light came back to his eyes, and the world around him came back into focus. This was a time loop. It was September. He was in Ragland's morgue; he must have run here after... he winced, pulling the blanket tighter around himself with a shaky exhale. It hurt to think about. He didn't know why, but it hurt. 

"...R...Ragland." He managed, his already rough voice somehow hoarser than normal. He could barely talk... after a moment, his eyes widened, and he tried again to force himself to his feet despite his trembling. "Shit- where's- where's the others. Ragland, where's the others. Gentek- the whole building, it-"

"Hey- don't get up-!" He didn't expect it but he was prepared, gently but firmly pushing Alex back into the pillow until their legs gave way again. "You're not able to walk, you have to wait. Do you want the weighted blanket-?" He cut himself off, shaking his head. He held his hand up in an obvious 'wait there' motion, and disappeared into a side room for a moment before returning with a odd, patchwork looking blanket which he placed over their legs. 

"You stay there, breathe for me- that's right- and when you're ready tell me what's going on. Alright?"

"I need to go, I- Cross and Doc-" Even with his complaining, he was quick to listen, slumping back onto the pillow with a few weak murmurs. Ragland knew best--a lesson he learned the moment he was rid of the parasite. Even so, Alex reached for him in a moment of slight panic when he disappeared into another room. By the time he'd returned, Alex had already retreated to the first blanket, stray curls just visible past his hood. 

Even with the obvious implication of weighted blanket, he couldn't help a small grunt of surprise as it was draped over him. A little too restraining for his tastes on a normal day, but today was anything but. Although breathing was somewhat tougher with the two blankets, he did his best, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on trying to catch his breath. Things couldn't be fixed if he was too out of it to help.

For a good several minutes, all he did was lay there. He tried to sort out just what had happened. Why did he get a memory of the nuke? When memories came to him, they were Doc's, and they were never that vivid. And they had a reason--all that had happened was the radiologist. Walking down the hall with her and Cross. A sound, like something about to burst. He writhed at the memory, the tendrils that made up his arms trying to force the claws back out against his will. 

He opened one eye, peering over at Ragland for a few moments in silence. What was going on? Ragland would know better than him, definitely. 

"I-..." A small sigh. "I don't know. I was with... Cross. Blackwatch-- former Blackwatch. We were at a meeting. Then a woman came in. Smelled like, y'know... radiation equipment. We followed her, and-" He visibly winced. "It burned. There was... just light, and... an explosion, like--" He clamped his mouth shut, shivering. "...Now I can't stop shaking. I can't control my body. And- I'm here. I wasn't here. I- I don't know what happened. But I need to... check on them, Ragland. Cross and Doc."

Ragland's lips pursed, considering the situation. Alex had gotten into something to get those... Writhing tendrils. And it seemed he didn't know much- quite out of character for the composed, wit filled man who sometimes came to him for odd little things. But, a person upset was a person upset, and he shouldn't let confusion or fear get in the way of helping him.

"The shaking's a stress response, when you're calmer it should go down to normal." He held his tongue, considering whether to bring the elephant in the room up, but eventually decided against it. Normally he'd just stick with Alex, conversate idly until he felt better- or until he got worse- but he had a feeling that staying still wasn't in Alex's cards today. "Do you want to call someone...?"

Well, at least it would stop. Spikes as a stress response, he could handle. The trembling, though, was unbearable. It was like when the Leader kidnapped Dana all over again. He wrapped his arms around his chest, huffing a little through his nose. Time must have looped again--after all, if the entirety of Gentek exploded, Ragland would have been reacting a little differently. That question, though--calling someone.

"Dana. My sister." He knew the answer before he even opened his mouth. It'd been far too long since he'd seen her... but considering the fact things kept ending horribly in these loops, he was fine with that. Hopefully, she would have better luck. He paused, though, considering. "...Do you have her number? I don't wanna call her." Not like this, when tremors lurked in the back of his tone. He was supposed to protect her; he couldn't imagine her hearing him in a state of total weakness like this. "Just... tell her we're ok. That we got Cross. Please."

"I didn't know you had a sister, Alex." The pathologist sighed, "I'll go with you if you need some support, you know that, but I can't call a number I don't have."

Alex started to say something--only for his attention to snap to the door. After a moment, the soft patter of footsteps was audible to someone other than the virus, and the door swung open to reveal a familiar face that both relieved and panicked him at the same time.

"Jesus, traffic is fucking shit today," Dana grumbled, only for her words to die in her throat as she faced Alex. He immediately pulled the blanket over his head, retreating to it so he could hide from her. Not unlike the way he'd hidden from the rain--several... loops ago. Either way, it wasn't normal. She glanced to Ragland, the softness and worry in her tone a total juxtaposition to her introduction.

"What the hell happened-?"

He gave a vague shrug in response, well used to the impulsivity of Alex- it made sense his sister would share that trait. "His sister, I presume? I'm not certain, but he's asked me to tell you that... They're ok, and they got Cross?" Then, quieter, "He's not been the most coherent I'm afraid. If you can do anything to help him, it seems he needs it."

The doctor stepped back somewhat, giving Dana a clear line of sight of the nervous blanket tent that Alex was currently huddled within, gesturing quietly. He could recognise a family moment when he saw one.

"Yeah--sorry, shit's been weird." Well, that was the understatement of the year, but that aside. So Cross was in the loop now. Maybe being stuck in an infinite cycle of time would make him be slightly less of a Blackwatch bitch, but that was high hopes. When it came to how coherent he was, though, she frowned and nodded. Poor guy wasn't a talker, much less when he was scared shitless.

Dana knelt beside the blankets as Ragland suggested--though, before she even got a word out, Alex was sitting up and wrapping his arms around her tightly. It was a little stiff, a little uncomfortable, but it was a hug. She blinked in surprise, but quickly returned it, wincing a little as she felt how badly he was shaking.

"Hey. What happened?"

So much. So much happened, he realized. They got Cross, only after Doc died at Alex's hand twice, then everyone was blown to bits in a nuke--explosion. Something. He clung to her a little tighter, though not without glancing up to Ragland.

"Just got startled. It's... nothing, Dana."

_____________________________________

Far from Ragland's morgue, Cross stepped out from an elevator. His morning had been far less eventful, to say the least. Waking up, getting ready, heading out, as though nothing had happened. Because... it hadn't. The explosion was unexpected, yeah, but considering the fact every loop he'd been involved in ended with his death? It really didn't mean anything. As much as he wanted to insist that to everyone around, even the general had a slightly startled look on his face when they locked. ...Ah. Take the rest of the day, Captain. McMullen and I can proceed on our own.

He huffed at the memory. Randall hadn't been paying any damn attention if he thought the dead look in Cross' eyes was something to worry about; he'd worked after hard missions a dozen times before. What was dying three times in a row? 

The captain came to a stop at one of the various apartment doors, briefly comparing it to what he'd been told. He had to coax Mercer's address out of some terrified intern, but given how the scientist reacted to the last death cycle, it was worth it. He was... worrying, to say the least. Him and Alex both--reckless bastards who had no sense of self preservation. It was like dealing with fresh Wisemen. 

One knock, then two, harsh enough to make the door shudder in its frame. "Mercer. It's Cross."

The scientist came to the door quickly, clearly already awake, and pulled it open a crack, glowering out at Cross. "What do you want."

Everything seemed pretty normal so far. Cross merely raised a brow, tucking his hands behind his back and moving his head as he talked. "I was checking on you. Seems you're mostly in one piece, though."

"Of course I am," He snapped, "Injuries don't carry over- that much is consistent. If that's all could you leave? I was busy."

"If injuries carried over, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I wasn't talking about physical wounds. Thought that'd be obvious." He shrugged, glancing the scientist over a few times before meeting his gaze. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm bored, and being a pain in the ass is pretty entertaining." 

Even so, he backed away, merely shrugging. He didn't expect anything less, really; he was surprised the door had been opened at all. "If you're planning on destroying anything else, you know where to find me. So I can at least say I tried to stop you."

Mercer sighed, and glanced back into his appartment, eyes widening with minute alarm. "... If you've seriously decided to skive off work to check on me, I might as well let you in." He grimaced, "Just give me a moment." He closed the door sharply in Cross' face- though the distance helped lessen the social consequences. 

Scuffling sounds could be heard from within, all muffled swears and knocked over glasses, and after several long minutes Mercer finally called out- though muffled by walls. "If you're serious, just come inside. Doors unlocked."

Cross would have clarified that he was given the day off, but the door was being slammed before he could say anything. From the sound of it... Mercer definitely wasn't wrong about being busy. Maybe he had Alex around, though the virus would have undoubtedly made an appearance already if that was the case. He merely paced outside the door, glancing up only when he was called out to.

Worked for him. Without further delay, he stepped inside, nudging the door closed behind him with his boot. He stopped at the doorway to the living room, adjusting the collar of his turtleneck as he glanced about the room.

Mercer emerged from the backroom, carefully closing the door behind him and wiping a bleeding finger off on his trousers- evidence of the trials of whatever had occupied him. He was utterly unconcerned about it, peering at Cross from a separate doorway in awkward silence for a long moment. "...You want something to drink or-?" 

It was odd to see the soldier in casual wear- though the overall look barely shifted really. Mercer could hardly talk about clothes though, given he was wearing his vest and wrecked hoodie, both thoroughly rumpled from sleeping in them many times over. "Don't just stand there like a fucking lemon, take a seat somewhere." He snapped, silence grating on his thin nerves.

If Mercer wasn't concerned about the blood, Cross certainly wasn't--while he was curious, what the scientist did was ultimately none of his business. Seeing as he was snapped at before he could even answer the first question, he merely raised a brow, before finally stepping further into the living room and taking a stiff seat on the couch. 

Cross wasn't sure why he was so antsy today. It wasn't like him; something about this house combined with not working for the rest of the day. He hardly considered himself a workaholic, but just sitting here had him drumming his fingers against his thigh in suppressed nervousness. Of course, he'd rather go up in another nuclear explosion than admit to it, expression remaining as stoic as ever as he glanced to Mercer.

"If I want a drink, I'll get one myself. Don't worry about it. Thank you for the offer, though." Not that the gratitude came across as anything but half-hearted. "For the record, I'm not skipping work. I was given the day off. The general decided he didn't need me to stare blankly at a wall for an hour." Tap, tap, tap. "Figured I'd check on you. I'll look into our situation some when I'm back at the barracks, for good measure."

Mercer sat down on a sofa chair across the room, folding himself into it like some origami creature as he watched Cross. "It doesn't matter if they agreed, you know. Skipping work is still skipping work. Besides, what could even be looked into?" Mercer cracked a wry grin, head perched on his knee. "Very little remains other than our minds. I've been observing this since I was brought into it- it's simply not enough to do tests on."

When Cross took some time to respond (though it was really nothing at all) Mercer frowned. The man looked like a very nervous labrat- tapping away and tense as anything. "You usually this hyper...?"

"I'm not talking about experiments, not in a scientific sense. I'm talking about testing the limits. Seeing how far we can push our luck, what makes this whole cycle tick. It's a perfect situation for scouting out weaknesses." Knowing one's enemy was critical, after all--even if the enemy happened to be time itself. While peculiar, this wasn't ultimately different than any other fight. He didn't focus on the scientist as he spoke, sharp gaze flicking between the walls around them more times than he'd like to admit. 

"You seem fond of recklessness. I'm willing to put myself in the firing line if it means figuring this out." The question made him pause, a split second frown crossing his features before settling back to neutrality. He pinned his own hand down, metallic fingers of his prosthetic glinting in the light. He nearly started bouncing his leg to counteract it, but grit his teeth to still himself. "It's nothing."

Mercer watched carefully, easily reading the actions despite Cross' attempts to hide them. "If you want to suffer from all that energy be my guest," He rolled his eyes, "But don't try to hide it. Its irritating. So- your idea would be to... Try to alter it? Fight to the death a dozen times? It'd be interesting for certain, but we've no way to record it."

He pulled out a worn notebook from the coffee table's drawer, flipping through it as he fidgeted in the chair, eventually settling on his side holding it above him. "Any traditional methods get wiped clean, no matter what I've tried. So itd be very.... Trial and error- with lots of recursion. Whatever makes this go by quicker though, I suppose."

"If I was trying to hide it, you wouldn't even be asking." Not to say he wasn't tempted to continue, but he wasn't that much of an asshole. He settled for getting to his feet, pacing in front of the couch with his hands tucked behind his back. Once he was done summarizing his plans, he could leave. Focus on that. "Something akin to that."

"Recording would be easy. You said it yourself--our minds stay in tact. We use that." A shrug. "The one of us three with the best memory just remembers what happened. It'd be basic drilling, nothing difficult. Embed whatever information we get in our heads so we can use it. No purpose to pointless reptition beyond what we already have to do; that's enough of a fucking pain as it is." 

"I want the ins-and-outs of the entire situation." Cross stopped briefly, meeting Mercer's gaze for a split second before resuming. "Can't put a stop to something you don't understand. And we happen to have all the time in the world."

"...Fine." Mercer acquiesced, grumbling tone showing exactly how he felt about a mental record of events. "If we're talking about memory, however... We should use Dana for that. Seems she's sharper than I thought."

With that, he rolled off the couch, nearly losing his balance, and strolled over to the door beyond Cross with more under breath mutterings about notes and interuptions the whole way. Before opening it, he paused just long enough to tap a blue dot on a map. "It's not terribly far, you could run if you'd like. I'll take the streets."

Why was he complaining? Better some record than no record. They didn't exactly have room to be picky. The name 'Dana' spurred a slight raise of his brow--there were more people involved in this?--but he said nothing, letting Mercer fumble with the map to show him the location.

A run... definitely not a bad idea. Running or otherwise working out was how he usually worked off the excess energy. Not that he showed any visible approval or denial of it, save for the fact he was already making his way to the door. 

"Works for me. I'll meet you there, then."

____________________________

The journey there passed quickly, now roughly familiar with the flow of pedestrians on this route on this day- but as he climbed the stairs with Cross (he'd not even seemed out of breath- how peculiar), and set to knocking on the door, a strange anxiety settled in. The insipid silence from within was unusual, and she didn't respond to the knocks in the slightest. 

Mercer reached for his phone, to text her quickly, only to realise he'd left it behind. He stiffened in place hunched in front of the door, body frozen while his mind writhed trying to think of why she wouldn't be home.

Cross let Mercer handle the knocking, mentally mapping out the interaction--what, exactly, he had in mind that could be tested--only to glance up as there was no response. He wasn't terribly perturbed. She wasn't home, no big deal. Mercer, on the other hand, looked like a damn deer in headlights. Well, that was helpful. With a grunt, he knelt next to the door, skimming it for a couple moments.

"No sign of breaking in or tampering. She left naturally." He glanced to his stiff companion, furrowing his brow a little in the vaguest show of concern. "She's likely fine. We can just wait for her to get back." 

He paused for a moment, considering something before letting out a quiet sigh "...Or, if you're feeling particularly impatient, I can pick the lock."

Mercer shook himself out of his head when Cross addrsssed him directly, trying to understand the words for a long moment. "... Maybe not. She probably doesn't want company if she left." He stuffed his hands into his pocket, looking away from Cross. "This was a bad idea."

That was that, then. Cross got back to his feet, hands dropping to his side as he glanced between Mercer and the door. "Not a bad idea. Just poor timing. If she's in the loop, her schedule's as predictable as ours." What now, though? "You can call her when you head back to your apartment. I can get you something to eat in the meantime. Might as well."

"Tch..." He responded, mulling over the offer with a mulish frown before relenting. "Sure. Don't think I've eaten real food in a few days anyways, might as well. You're picking the place though."

If their bodies just reset, food really wasn't that necessary, was it? Cross could have argued that he hardly new anywhere around, but it'd be the equivalent of complaining to a brick wall. "Fine."

Off they went yet again, lacking any better things to do. The rain was still coming down, ruining Cross' slicked back hair more than it already had, but he hardly seemed to mind. Even at a speed walk he was a ways ahead of Mercer, frequently stopping to let the scientist catch up before heading off again. The trip had no true direction, truthfully--he only happened to wander across a pub, recently opened for the morning with few guests.

Cross lingered at the doorway, stature and scarred features earning him a few anxious glances before Mercer finally caught up. He motioned to the building with his good hand, as though he was presenting his find.

"This work for you?"

Mercer peered inside, shivering from the rain, and gave a tiny half shrug. "It's as good as anything." He stepped inside, dripping onto the welcome mats for a moment, before stalking to a closed off booth in the back and settling within, grateful to be off his feet. 

After waiting a moment for Cross to join him in the safe, walled in space, he met the old man's steady gaze with a sharp stare usually reserved for people who he was curious about- such as Dana or Alex- but he assured himself he wasn't curious about Cross. Cross was just a hired gun for Blackwatch who he'd had the unfortunate luck to get stuck with today. "You seem quite certain of your idea- we can discuss it over food. What boundaries did you wish to test, exactly?"

Cross, on the opposite hand, was reluctant to still again--he sat across from Mercer, only to immediately start bouncing one leg and resting his chin in both hands. He paid no mind to the menu; food was the last thing he had on his mind. His mind was in overdrive, determining the perfect course of action, his goals, who to achieve it with and how to achieve it.

"That's the plan. It'd be kind of stupid to leave you in the dark." He brushed a few stray strands of hair back, then continued. "Assuming the 'everything resets at the end of the day' mentality, I want to see just how far that goes. Death's caught the most of my attention. It's extreme, it's an end-all, usually. And we're in a situation where death doesn't mean shit. It's a freedom a human being can only be left with for so long before the universe gets pissy. So how many times and how many ways can a man die, before something changes?"

"That's just one example. It's critical to figuring this whole thing out, though."

A slight grin slipped onto Mercer's face, without thinking. "So you'd like to orchestrate our deaths to see if that results in alternate loops? I have to say, I'm not averse to the idea. Though if it's anything like the last variation..." He grimaced. "Well, experimenting is the only way to improve after all. We could always free Greene to get a quick death scenario, I suppose."

He quietened his musings as the waiter approached, pointing out his order choice with a dark mutter. Unpeturbed- perhaps too tired to care- they turned to Cross, "And you, sir?"

Cross merely glanced the waiter's way, slight annoyance at the interruption easily concealed by the deadpan and monotone. "Just water will do." He eyed them as they walked off, waiting until they were out of earshot to face Mercer and continue--in a lower, quieter tone than before. A simple precaution. 

"...Essentially, yes, that's my plan." There was a slight furrow of his brow, pondering over the name 'Greene' for a second. "I'd rather keep the deaths of unrelated parties to a minimum, at least until we run out of tests. As for our team, we need to be precise about it. Focus on one person at a time. I'm going first. The emotional toll is obvious, and I'm the most equipped to handle it, on account of my training."

Mercer forced down the gut reaction- if Cross wanted to put himself on the chopping block that was up to him. "Alright." He lingered for a moment, considering something. "Hold on, do you even know who Greene is?"

"Vaguely." Cross shrugged, leaning back in his seat to start drumming his fingers against the table. "The name came up a few times when the general and McMullen were conversing, though they kept it obnoxiously vague. I assumed it was a codename. Your son seemed pretty convince she was a monster, though. His description matched that of a Runner before he went off on a paranoid tangent. If we were dealing with a Runner, though, I would know." He narrowed his eyes somewhat, frowning. "That's what I've heard. I assume you're talking about something different."

He sighed, adjusting his glasses as he talked quietly,"... Hate to break it to you, but she is a runner. Tried to kill me when I found a way into the containment area to investigate." The thought of the information Gentek had kept hidden from him made his stomach churn. "She had the strain which I made Alex from- though I didn't realise until recently. How much do you think you know?"

He fell silent for a good, long moment, but his tapping only picked up pace and intensity; despite his tight frown, it was clear he was gritting his teeth.

"Dammit. We were told you had a sample of the virus, not..." He exhaled slowly, sternly not breaking his calm demeanor. "So they've been holding a Runner captive. Good to know. I don't think they realize the amount of hell they're in for the second the general learns this." Except, he already knew. He'd been talking about it with McMullen. Randall wasn't a trustworthy force by any means, but this was a Runner. A viral bomb ready to blow at any second. Why would he let that slide?

Cross nearly got up and started pacing again, but clenched his fists to fight it. "I know enough. Runners aren't anything to fuck around with."

"You would know that, wouldn't you?" Mercer half muttered, eyes going to the slight red tint peeking out of Cross' collar, and beyond the ends of his sleeves, curling without pain over the man's organic hand. To him, the symptoms lined up quite well- but he wondered if he realised.

He was prevented from continuing by the sudden reappearance of the waiter, this time bearing a tall glass of water and a bowl of bread buns. "Here you go, sirs. Your meal will be arriving shortly- will you be paying with cash or card?"

"Card, after the meal." Mercer responded, pushing the bread buns across the table with a pointed look at Cross.

Cross was by no means dense; he knew exactly what Mercer was getting at, and it earned him a sharper than usual glance as he pulled up on the collar of his turtleneck. Last he checked, he wasn't running around in a crazed, 'infect everything' daze--the Redlight rashes, blotches of crimson scattered across his body, were an unfortunate side effect of an age old infection, nothing more. But whatever helped him sleep at night, he supposed. 

He merely nodded to reaffirm Mercer's statement, taking a sip of water despite his somewhat unsteady grip on the glass. Cross huffed a little as the bread was pushed his way, but he took a piece anyways. Soon he was distracted, though, biting into it like he hadn't eaten in the past three days. He'd had other priorities.

He swallowed what was in his mouth before he continued, turning the bread about in his artificial hand. "Whatever the Greene situation, I'll handle it. It's ultimately not your problem. We should focus on the loop."

"The Greene situation would be the focus of this loop," Mercer snipped, "There's little else to do. Unless you'd like to explain how else you've got matching marks to her?" The waiter was long gone by now, so he felt no guilt in probing the 'Specialist' who seemed to have a special lack of knowledge for his role.

His grip on the bread roll tightened somewhat, and the pace at which he was bouncing his leg increased, but he didn't dare show an ounce of emotion on his face. It'd be easier if he could just get up and move.

"Really. By that logic, you could say anyone who has a rash or birthmark is a Runner, too. I'd be in great business." Cross rolled his eyes, but after a moment, he rolled up his sleeve--leaving the red markings in full view to prove his point. "I can explain just fine. I never said I wasn't infected. I just carry a variation of the strain. It's an artificial one made by scientists prying at Redlight. They wanted to see how they could enhance us. If I was a Runner, everyone would be long dead. They infect everything they touch."

"Don't make assumptions about a situation you aren't part of, Mercer."

"I've been researching Blackwatch and Gentek for months," He hissed lowly, "It gets me killed by your coworkers if it gets out. I daresay I'm part of the fucking situation- if not Achilles' specific mess."

The last name made even Cross' face immediately darken, the bread in hand promptly crushed as he forced himself to look away. He wanted to die, if he was digging around that much.

"I don't see what you're going to get out of this." He motioned between them. "Say it turns out I'm a Runner. Which I'm not. How does that benefit either of us right now. You get a little fun fact about me, I become an enemy of the state. We shouldn't sit here like fucking ducks when we have a very real issus--the fact time is looping in the first place."

He couldn't do the stillness any longer, promptly getting up and pacing the length of the table. "This isn't a free for all, it's a real problem. Theories and accusations will only make things worse."

"I get a fun little fact, you get to come out of the virus closet, no one gets permanently hurt because of the issue with time." Mercer rolled his eyes, "What are you going to do, kill me?"

"Do you want the sarcastic answer or the genuine answer?" Come out of the virus closet, he says. He must have been great at parties. 

"I'm not going to kill someone for having a conversation with me, for fuck's sake. You're stating your perceptions, and even if I'm calling bullshit, I respect that. I just don't see how this will cause us anything but trouble." A small pause. "Of course. I have to entertain the idea that you're right, too. And that just puts emphasis on me being the death test dummy."

Though Mercer longed to snap out a reply, half out of his seat- the waiter interrupted him. They cleared their throat, getting the attention of both the tense men, and their smile had the slightest hint of irritation this time. "Sirs, I'm afraid this is a restaurant. If you wish to fight, there are plenty of other venues I could direct you to. Please, enjoy your meal and sit down." 

With that, they placed the meal ordered onto the table and stepped back, staring Cross down. Mercer had already slunk back into his seat, glowering at them- it was only the large man left to deal with.

He should've seen this coming--there wasn't anything subtle about their argument, after all, much less Cross' pacing. He met the waiter's gaze in silence, lips drawn in a tight frown. The thought of stilling right now, with so much going through his head, made him want to bash his head against the nearest wall. But there was an easier solution to this. 

"I'm going to step outside. I can pay now to avoid any trouble. The meal was mostly for him." He set the crushed, half-eaten bread roll back in the basket, moving to hold his hands behind his back. "It's been a long morning."

"Like hell you are," Mercer growled, grabbing the back of Cross' jumper and trying to drag him back to the seating. "You're going to fucking eat the bread, I'm going to eat this fucking salad and then we'll talk. It's been a long week so you're not slipping off."

Mercer trying to pull Cross was the equivalent of trying to push a tank into position, with Cross not even faltering despite it. He merely glanced back to the scientist, huffing through his nose. "Or you could take it to go. I'm just going to walk around the block. It's really not a huge deal."

The waiter huffed in amusement. "For a small fee we can offer that service, shall I bring the card reader?"

Mercer slumped, glaring between the two. "Fine. We're going."

____________________________

The walk through Gentek was simple as always- what with the employees scrambling out of the two dead eyed men like they had the plague. Or perhaps like Cross was infectious- the thought amused him somewhat. He would love to see what a proper Redlight Host looked like- merely the sickness rather than the form twisting animalistic variants. Cross wasn't the slighest worrry to them.

But as the duo (one slightly out of breath) exited the stairwell onto the pustule filled floor with bubbling fleshy walls, Mercer felt his chest tighten more. They were really here- ready to fight the runner to the death. He had to focus if he wanted to get useful information from this.

The second they stepped into Gentek, the persistent nervousness that had been plaguing the captain all day was gone. Gone was the aimless fidgeting, replaced instead by a quick and steady stride as his attention remained wholly on his goal. Maybe it was a little extreme for a first death--sending an unarmored man to brawl a captive Runner. But he was ready. Ready to map out what she was capable of, ready to truly grasp how a Runner thought so he could properly apply it to combat.

As they came to the doorway for her containment, Cross rolled up his sleeves, briefly checking the status of his prosthetic before moving both hands to rest behind his back.

"Anything I should know? I imagine she's unresponsive right now. Captivity has likely been grating on her."

"She doesn't respond to anything, until you get to about a meter off the containment. Pretty patient, but once you get too close..." He shuddered a little, remembering his encounter viscerally. "Well, you can guess."

He walked up to the box which held the centre of Gentek's corruption, pulling the key to her cell out. As expected, she lifted her head from the curled up position, just enough to watch them. Barely noticeable if you didn't know she would move in that specific way. "I'll let you in when you're ready. You've got time- do what you need."

"I was ready the moment we stepped in here, Mercer. This isn't my first time." The Runner of Two Bluff came immediately to mind--tracking her down in the blazing Arizona sun, ending her life on a railway about a mile away from the decimated town. He didn't even have to chase this one down.

"This could last minutes to hours. Keep a close eye."

He nodded wordlessly, opening the first door to let him in and handing him the inner key, shutting the door behind Cross. After a small moment of hesitation, he locked the outer door and moved to watch from the observation window uneasily. Greene had lifted her head up, watching Cross with her full attention now.

Cross moved forward without hesitation or delay, not even bothering a glance back to Mercer. He was going to die--he fully expected it. But seeing as that was the idea, he wasn't exactly phased. He unlocked the inner door, closing and locking it behind himself before going to stand at the front of her cell. He said something, clearly directed at Greene, but it was inaudible past the soundproof glass of Greene's containment.

She stood up slowly, as if from a gentle rest rather than months of being curled up in the same position. For a long moment, she was completely still, then something like- though distinctly not- a smile spread over her features. She stepped closer to Cross almost welcomingly, some phrase rolling off her lips as she reached a hand towards him.

In a motion completely unlike the ever-stoic captain, he recoiled, disgust and shock genuinely visible on his features as he backed away from her. His response was sharp and harsh, accompanied by him raising both fists and glaring daggers. Her attempt to touch him seemed to be the only reason he hadn't lashed out already, as he was clearly debating it.

Although she looked- betrayed? saddened?- by his response, she did not let that stop her. She grasped his organic fist, pale fingers threading around it, and whispered something again, meeting his eyes earnestly.

Cross moved to pull away, but the moment her hand came into contact with his... he stopped. His shoulders slackened, and he returned the grasp she had on his organic hand with his metallic one. It was an odd scene by all means, aggression having faded into an odd sort of bonding--a family reunion.

From beyond the containment, slouched against the wall of the mutated area, Mercer scowled at the duo. He was supposed to be killing the Runner, not holding hands with her like a pair of schoolgirls surprised to meet! But... This could make for quite the good scenario to observe. It certainly leant much more credence to his runner theory- but he'd need to try disproving it if he wanted to be certain. No value in confirmation bias after all. With that in mind, he slumped to the floor resting cross legged to wait for either of them to do something.

But from the looks of it? He'd be here a while.


	12. r10.5

He drifted back into wakefulness in his own bed, eyes flickering open with a groan. He'd fallen asleep watching Cross do... Whatever the hell Runners did when they were just staring and whispering at each other, and apparently he'd slept through the time reset and now it was dark- black as pitch, actually. 

Maybe something was against his window this time? There should have been moonlight to go with the dim rain noises he could hear. He stood up carefully, padding over old jackets which were exactly where they should be to the light switch, flicking it on. 

Nothing changed.

He tried again, frowning and flicking it on and off a few times. The faint buzzing of electricity was there, so why...? His stomach sank, a dark worry brewing, and he traced his way along the wall to his window, touching it carefully. Curtains were pulled aside, and the glass was smooth and cool to the touch. He should have been able to see the moonlight.

Confused, irritated, but mostly trying to bite back the growing dread, he stepped back, sitting on his bed and trying to see his hands fruitlessly. Was this permanent? Why was he blind this time-? Nothing unusual had happened last loop, so far as he could tell. It'd have made sense last loop, going by his working theory that major events carried over.

At the very least, where vision failed, sound didn't. There was no mistaking the sound of the front door being swung open, nor the heavy bootfalls that echoed down the hall promptly after. Why he picked here of all places to visit was beyond anyone, but soon enough, he was pulling the bedroom door open.

"Mercer. We've got a fucking prob--" The captain abruptly cut himself off, lingering in the doorway and staring blankly at where the scientist sat. While seeing his actual expression was impossible, his tone conveyed plenty. "... What the hell are you doing. "

"...Nothing." He muttered in response, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the hoodie he'd slept in and hunching over to hide his face from view. "What's the fucking problem?"

"'What's the fucking problem.' You're shitting me right now." He started to motion to the window, but something made him pause. With narrowed eyes, he stepped forward, promptly waving his hand between Mercer's face and hands. "We fucked up. Whatever we did in Gentek, it set Greene off like a bomb. You're in a goddamn Red Zone right now."

He flinched back from the air moving in front of his face, the crinkle of fabric telling him exactly what Cross was doing. He grabbed at it before it could disappear, turning to glare in his general direction. "And what do you want me to do about it? I'm a virologist not a soldier, I'll be dead weight. Especially considering- this."

Mercer's reaction--combined with the completely unfocused look in his eyes as he tried to glare at him--told him everything he needed to no. A tight frown flicked across his features, but now wasn't the time to dwell. Resting his other hand on Mercer's, he started trying to pull him to his feet.

"You aren't doing anything about it. You're getting the fuck out of here. Your sister's place is out of the Zone, so you'll be going there with her. We'll handle the actual threats."

"We?" He questioned as he got up, trying not to focus too much on the hands. He could use other things to find his way around- the help wasn't necessary. Didn't stop the almost death grip he had on the cool metal of the prosthetic though. "Right- your wisemen. You're trained for this."

Carefully, he let go and moved over to the wall, pawing the ground until he found his discarded boots and slipped them on, moving back to where he'd left Cross. "So... Let's get going. Wherever the hell you're going. What's even the plan?"

"Ten years of training, with each of my Wisemen personally picked and trained by me. I'm not worried about getting it under control." He hesitated for a moment as Mercer gripped his arm, but made no motion to stop the man as he gathered his clothes for the departure. He lingered in place, casting a quick glance to the Redlight creeping across the window. It was getting worse by the minute--Runners were never safe business. He should know.

"I have authority to do whatever I please. That includes getting you out of a Red Zone. I take you to your sister's apartment, you meet with her and Alex. What you three do from there ultimately isn't my business. I'll track down and kill the Runner."

"You're not the Runner?" He asked, letting Cross lead him reluctantly out. He hated this situation already. He couldn't see the viral apocalypse, and he couldn't even stay home. It was annoying. "You mean Greene has escaped-? But what changed to cause that- all you did was talk and she doesn't retain memories, so far as I can tell. Though perhaps she does now, considering this."

He interupted himself with a curse when he walked right into his front door- it'd been left open by Cross' entry. "You know, it's interesting that you care and all- but how the hell are we going to get across Manhattan if it's riddled with Redlight? One of us is safe and it's not the one who needs to get out."

"Of course I'm not the fucking--" Cross cut himself off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Even with that little discovery, I haven't lost my fucking mind yet. We didn't talk." He winced, letting his hand drop back to his side, but keeping his gaze sternly ahead. "We're connected. Through the Hivemind. The second I woke up, I could hear her. Feel her. Apparently, the arrival of someone else is what she's been waiting for." He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, sternly ignoring the taste of blood. "Like I said. We fucked up." 

He paused as Mercer tried to walk into the door. After a slight snort, he pulled him away from it, getting him back on track. "Oh, we're going on a lovely stroll through Redlight-ridden Manhattan. Maybe we'll chat with some of the Walkers." He rolled his eyes. "How the fuck do you think I got here? There's a helicopter."

"The blind civvie and the psychic bioweapon- well this day is starting great!" He groaned. "Fucked up indeed- at least you'll get to practice fighting to the death again and again. You wanted that, right?" 

Even as he chattered, he was focused on each twist and turn they took, jerking Cross to a smaller, less used stairwell behind a solid door. He gripped the rail by the side, looking at Cross and waiting for him to follow him into the cramped space. Usually he'd just go ahead- but today wasn't exactly usual and he didn't feel like tripping over a water bottle or some shit to his death.

"Leads straight to the roofs- maintenance uses it and the fuckers never lock up properly. Quicker than the main stairwell and there's no locked doors."

Cross narrowed his eyes as the virologist groaned, but ultimately, he couldn't exactly blame him for the bad mood. The loss of a sense was hard on anyone who had to endure it, even more so an abrupt one. "Relax. You said it yourself, the physical effects don't last through the resets. Once today's over, you'll be back to normal. Surviving the day is just ideal." The doctor had died enough times by now.

He followed Mercer's league a little begrudgingly, raising both brows as he was led into the stairwell. It was quick--that was ultimately what they needed. The pilot was only willing to wait so long for Cross's little "rescue mission", as the Wisemen had taunted (with good intentions). His height made watching out for Mercer from behind easy, at least, making sure he wouldn't fall and break his face open.

"The good news about this entire fucking mess is that we've handled Runners before." Cross noted simply. "Once we find Greene, the rest of it should be a quick clean up. And the Hivemind has some benefits."

Mercer grunted, focused on not tripping on the narrow stairs. "Sounds like a plan. You follow her trail and then kill her. And hopefully next time she won't be awake. It's a damn shame I can't get samples..." He sighed dramatically, but it was surface deep. He couldn't fake a mood for shit. "This fucking sucks."

The metal roof entrance door was in front of his hands before he expected and he mumbled a curse, yanking it open to- the smell of rotten meat and engine oil. What the fuck? He stilled, only stepping out when he felt Cross bump into him, face twisted in confusion. Had Cross brought a dead fox in the helicopter or something? It smelled rank.

For someone who could see, though, the reaction was much more visceral. The helicopter was a burnt, mangled husk--and right in front of it was the culprit, a familiar visage of black and red tendrils. He'd already turned to face them by the time they were out the door, the whip-esque limb that had replaced his arm quickly snapping back into proper shape. Cross nudged the scientist aside so he could step out from the stairwell, glaring daggers.

"Are you fucking... Alex." He was, genuinely, at a loss for words. The few interactions he'd had with the virus certainly had him questioning his common sense, but this was a whole new level of fucking stupid. It was Cross's turn to groan, dragging his hand down his face. Alex didn't seem to mind--or care, based on the way here merely moved to stand in front of them.

"Dana and Ragland are back at the morgue. I'll get you two there, then make sure Blackwatch isn't trackin' you. I've dealt with Elizabeth before."

He pressed himself against the wall, glaring in Alex's general direction. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, the texture of the fabric being something to ground him with. "The fuck are you doing here?" 

A jab in Cross' general direction earnt him a jolt through his finger from the impact- how fucking far did the prosthetic go up? He pulled it back with a wince. "And you're not fucking dropping us off like kids at daycare, you thrice damned macroscopic common cold! He's as skilled as you are. Take him with you."

Cross raised a brow as his upper arm was jabbed at, but ultimately, it was far from his highest priority. He gave Alex an incredulous look, scoffing despite himself. "He's right. If you can handle this, I definitely can."

"Say that to the Supreme Hunter," Alex growled--but it seemed to hit a nerve of his own, and his expression became dark and distant. "... He doesn't have my abilities, even if he's got skill. I'm not takin' him."

"Oh, boo fucking hoo, I don't have superpowers. Both the men you just blew up and I are trained to handle this exact situation--"

"Your men just wanna put a bullet in his skull--" a jab at Mercer, "and nuke Manhattan!"

"First off," Mercer snapped, unreactive to the jab. "Unless you've been doing some fucking serious shit with my face, they won't want to kill me just yet. I'm a scientist- in this situation they'd want my knowledge more than my head." 

"Secondly, you schoolgirls can stop bickering about who's stronger or more powerful or whatever the fuck because this bitch-" He grabbed Cross' arm roughly, shaking the stiff limb in Alex's direction. "Has killed a Runner before- and he's all wired up to the hivemind. So stop being a prissy little bitch of a virus and go have a murder party already."

"They shot you when you were with Dana. I oughta know--I took her home. I know what Blackwatch is..." Alex trailed off, though, his attention flicking not to Mercer--but his companion. He took a few steps away, frowning as Mercer only dug himself into a deeper hole. He was not sticking near the outburst that was about to happen, not as someone who'd been on the recieving end before. 

The virus's prediction was plenty accurate. Cross yanked his arm away, but hardly gave the scientist the chance to react before he was gripping his collar, yanking him closer--they were nose-to-nose by the time he was done. It didn't take vision to feel the way the fury radiated off of him. He spoke in an uncharacteristically harsh snarl, digging his fingers into the fabric.

"Call me a schoolgirl or your bitch again, Mercer, and I will rip your goddamn spine out of your back and dangle you from it like bait on a fishing pole. Do I make myself clear?" Alex started to step forward, to intervene, but all it took was a glance from Cross to stop him in his tracks. Mercer had pressed the wrong buttons, by all accounts.

"Calm the fuck down!" He hissed, trying to squirm out of the grip unsuccessfully. "I was trying to vouch for you you goddamn idiot! And for the record- I insult everyone who gets within 5 fucking feet! The hell is your problem?"

The captain paused, something seeming to click in the back of his mind--and he relented. He let go of the scientist as quickly as he'd grabbed him; soon enough, there was a distance of a couple feet between them, with Cross's hands tucked behind his back and his attention set on Alex instead. He sighed, but continued to completely ignore the question he'd been asked.

"If you have somewhere safe to take him, then take him. Standing around with a weapon of mass destruction and a blind civvie is bound to catch attention, whether Greene's or Blackwatch's. Besides. His knowledge on the virus could come in handy." 

"I don't need his help with that." Alex stated simply, casting both parts of the duo a wary glance. "Rooftops aren't safe in Red Zones. We'll have to take to the ground, and it's full of Walkers. Gettin' him outta here's gonna be a job for us both."

"You wrecked the Helicopter?" He asked, finally figuring out where the engine oil and smoke smell was coming from. "Why the fuck did you do that- do you like carrying people around or some shit?"

He dragged a hand down his face. "Why not just fillet me like a fish and have me as a snack for the journey- Cross seemed happy enough with that idea! Just get me the fuck out of here, and you superpowered-" he forced away the want to say bitches or sissies, wary of Cross' response. "-bastards can do your shit. I'm clearly such a liability after all."

Alex faltered slightly--he hadn't expected 'blind civvie' to be literal--but he shoved it aside for now. "Yeah, I do. But destroyin' the helicopter was-... habit. Sorry." He offered a vague shrug, but quickly reminded himself that Mercer couldn't see the gesture.

He waited for Cross's inevitable snarky response, but when it didn't come, he continued. "We weren't sayin' you were a liability, so stop..." A moment to try and find the phrase, "puttin' words in our mouths. You could be anyone, and gettin' through those streets would be hell. I've done this before. Once I find Greene, I'll figure out who released her, and make sure it doesn't happen again. But that's not happenin' until you're outta the firin' line."

"Stop trying to comfort me." He folded his arms, looking away from the source of the voice. His voice. It was weird and he didn't like it, even on a good day when he could just focus on the too pale skin, the red under the eyes- all the little things which distinguished him. With just a voice? Harder to ignore the similarities.

"I'm sure someone will have a hunch-" Would Cross call him out for that? Maybe. He didn't care. "But it's not my problem now, is it? You want me tucked safely away from the conflict and I'll be glad to stay out of your way." He slumped against the wall, waiting for something to happen- for the awkward silence which had fallen to stop. "Let's just go already. The sooner you get me out of the way the sooner you can chase her down and the sooner tomorrow will come and fix this fucking bullshit situation."

"Okay, okay, you're a coward, we got it, boss." The abrupt shift to an Outbreak had him a little on edge, so Mercer could suck it up. Vision wasn't that big of a deal anyway; Alex could fair just fine if he had his sight taken. Rather than wait for Mercer to stop whining or for Cross to relax, Alex merely walked over, plucking the scientist up and tossing him over his shoulder.

"Like I said, we're gonna be stuck on the streets. But you've got grenades. Pretty good area clearin'." Cross finally looked his way, blinking a few times in surprise at the sloppy way in which the virus had chosen to hold Mercer.

"You could say that. You're not thinking hard enough on this, though. I doubt I can run as fast as you, and we need his majesty out of here quick." Cross fiddled with the variety of pouches on his uniform, before finally pulling out what he was looking for--a half-face gas mask. "It's an airborne disease. If he's not infected already, he will be. We can at least delay the effects."

He did not like being held at all, twisting and scrabbling at the half liquid jacket to try to get upright with sharply muttered curses. Eventually he managed to get a grip on the other shoulder, trying to pull himself around fruitlessly. He ended up settling for the halfway upright position where he could hear his damn blood, gripping tight.

"If we assume I'm infected right now, it doesn't matter. The fastest working strain doesnt do a thing until 20 hours after infection at the earliest. Worst case scenario, I've got a severe cough by the time the day restarts. And after that, it's another 6 to 8 hours for the body to start rejecting itself and mutating- the first sign being coughing up blood."

Alex didn't so much as twitch as Mercer scrambled about on his back, save to secure him in place with a few tendrils once he stopped flailing around. He didn't exactly need him falling off--a fact that was only emphasized as a distant sound caught his attention. With narrowed eyes, he dug his boots into the ground, bracing for an impact Mercer nor Cross could hope to figure out. 

Not until a Hunter was pulling itself over the edge of the building. It threw itself at Alex with a roar, but he was quicker; he swung at it, shifting his arm to the massive blade and leaving a large gash across its chest. It staggered back, just in time to get a high-voltage taser jabbed into it, the scent of smoke and burning flesh filling the air as Cross attacked. It stumbled away from him just the same, snarling as he lashed the taser across its back. 

"They move in packs. We gotta go." But rather than making sure the captain got the message, Alex was on the move, jumping off the rooftop with Mercer strapped to his back. The wind whipped against them, but Alex only slowed their fall near the end, digging his fingers into the side of the building before hopping off and hitting the concrete.

Well this morning just kept getting better and better! He held tight as Alex saw fit to leap off the building, clawing through concrete and glass on the outside wall near the end and landing with a ground shattering thud. He could practically feel his organs rattling inside his ribcage from the impact, even though he was held tight with the tendrils crisscrossing over the back of his jacket and holding him tight.

"Could you not leap off of skyscrapers again?!" He snapped, trying to get breath back in his lungs from the sudden ascent. He froze as a strange sound came from behind, something between the dying gurgles of a drowned animal and the snuffling of a curious Opposum. And there were lots of them- or so he guessed from the sound. One swung at him, rancid claws dripping from the remnants of blood and fluids it was created in spraying all over his arms and hands with the missed blow. Clumsy- but deadly. "Just get me out of here already!"

"We didn't really have time for the elevator, Doc!" Alex spun around as the Hunter attacked, stepping away from its bombardment of slashes with practiced ease. He flashed his teeth--before kicking off the concrete yet again, dropping down atop the creature and digging his blade straight through its head. He jumped off it, using the momentum to air-dash past the rest of the pack and land heavily on the other side of the group. He broke into a sprint, vaulting over cars and slicing Walkers in half as he ran. 

He skid to a halt as a tank rounded the corner, but it gave him an idea. If Mercer was gonna whine about their method of travel, he'd just get them a new one. Besides, what better way to handle the Hunters? He jumped atop the tank, dropping into a crouch so he could dig his fingers between the hatch and the metal surface. 

"I'm gettin' us a tank." He informed the scientist on his back, if a little late. He tore the hatch open, and couldn't help but rub his hands in a chaotic, nearly sadistic bout of glee. "Hold on tight."

Between the dizzying sickness that Alex had conjured up with his theatrics, and the gore that had coated his whole body from the Hunters demises- it was all he could do as the virus dropped into the tank, placing him roughly onto what felt like a chair. He took a moment to get his breath back, wiping off the blood and flesh chunks clinging to his mouth and nose as best he could. The smell lingered- a strange sweetness- but it was easily overpowered by the stench of the Blacklight virus besides him. Great.

"This works." He muttered, gripping the edges of his seat tight to try to ground himself. "You're quite the messy eater, but good job." The crunch of bone under the tank had him grimacing. "I hope you know how to drive this thing."

The memories of the tank crew were deja vu, really--like relearning how to ride a bike after going years without it. It was a relief, allowing him to easily snap into action and begin driving it through the crowds of Walkers. Once he got going, he didn't even need to rely on the memories, a fact he found... weirdly comforting. Knowing he could do something like this on his own, if with a little assistance.

"It's not eatin'. You oughta know that, if anybody." He opened fire on the Hunters that had caught up with them, driving the tank backwards so he could focus on both movement and his attack. "I've done this before. Tanks and helicopters both."

Of course, a single tank crew didn't exactly have the same amount of memories as countless tank crews. His driving was capable, but sloppy, partially due to the way most of his mass was spread out to control the vehicle's myriad of technology. But it got the job done. Soon enough, they were pulling up in the morgue parking lot; Alex popped the hatch open, before he scooped up Mercer and jumped to the ground.

"We're here. You get five more minutes with me, then I'm outta your hair." He paused, though, hesitating at the doorway--when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, softer. "... Did you cause this? The Outbreak?"

"Its possible." He muttered, having only the reluctant trust in Alex to lead him through the halls. His voice was a murmur, conveying information with the slight tinge of excitement anyone who knew him might recognise. "Yesterloop we visited Greene- and now a redlight infection is spreading like wildfire. It seems connected but I'm not sure how. We thought you were the only being which could affect time so to speak, so the fact our actions left consequences on the today...? We didn't expect it. Not in the slightest."

He'd been led through so many turns he knew he couldn't find the exit at this point, and settled for the tense, hunched over walk where every step took focus and he had to just hope Alex wasn't leading him to a basement or acid pit or some such. The grip he had on the 'leather' Jacket was nearly bone crushing, but it barely dented the faux fabric. "How much further?"

The excitement was not returned. The longer Mercer talked, the sharper the tendrils securing him in place became, until they were just shy of slicing directly through his flesh; they dug in like barbed wire, though, felt even past the layers of clothes. Of course Mercer would like something like that. He hadn't seen the Outbreak. Alex sighed through his teeth, trying--and failing--to relax.

"You shouldn't've done that." He advised quietly, doing his damnedest to keep his much harsher temper in check. "Greene's a monster. She nearly destroyed Manhattan. She... nearly destroys Manhattan. In the present. Future. Whatever." The linoleum floors started to crack from the weight of his footsteps. "Just--don't do it again."

Rather than answering the last question verbally, he merely pushed his way through some doors, unraveling his grip on Mercer to dump him on an observation table. That was more than enough to get Dana's attention, who had been merely messing with one of the computers.

"Jesus Christ--where the fuck have you been, Doc?! We've been worrying our asses off." He certainly looked worse for were to her, covered in blood and guts as he was.

He sat up with a curse, gripping the edge of metal table with a death grip, eyes screwed shut (not that it made a difference) from the dizzying force he'd been dumped with. Alex was pissed about Greene, for certain. He was starting to understand the little Virus' behaviours by now. 

"You'll have to be a bit more specific," He grumbled, rubbing at the arm Alex had damn near tourniqueted on the way here. As he spoke, he didn't move to look at Dana, or anything really. He didn't know how his eyes looked, and didn't feel like making a show of it. He just stayed sat there, staring into the middle distance and hoping there was something vaguely interesting there at least and he wasnt just glaring at some floorboards. "The gore is just Blacklight's work- he came to drag me here. I'm not wounded. "

At least he hadn't changed any. Dana had yet to figure out the issue of her brother's sight, mostly because she was busy side-eyeing him. "His name is still Alex. And I'm talking about the fact Gentek fucking exploded the loop before the last one, and you were totally off the fucking grid the rest of the day. Today, I'm guessing you were home before Alex got you." 

Despite her audible concern, her words lacked the sharp bite she could have easily cast on him. She'd learned--or, at the least, she was still hung up on the last time she'd shouted at him. Dana bit her lip, but her attention didn't linger, not as Alex started walking away. 

"You two stay here. Cross and I are gonna deal with Greene." He paused, though, casting an uneasy glance back to the siblings. "...I'm not gonna come back until she's gone. If I... she might--"

"I know." Dana interrupted quietly, wrapping her arms around herself in a small self-hug. "It's okay. Just be careful, yeah?"

He swallowed hard, picking at the leather of his coat. "...Yeah. Okay." With that, he headed out the door, reluctant but determined at the same time.

He listened until Alex was gone, huffing in irritation. Sure- give the man eating bioweapon concern. He needs the condolences.

"I don't fucking know why Gentek exploded. You seriously think I could do that? I cant even shoot a gun." Technically not a lie. He didn't know why the hell the x ray machine went up in flames- but she didn't need the whole story.

"I went looking for you, and you weren't home. Forgot my phone." He patted down his pockets for a moment, frowning. "Did it again. Fuck. Anyway- I was fine you fucking worrier. Alex pretty much abducted me from the roof to come see you. He's pretty mad."

Dana sighed despite herself, biting her bottom lip. You'd think dying countless times would give the shithead some perspective--Alex had given her the rundown on what had happened when they tried to get Cross. The countless deaths. Apparently not. Hell, it'd been her suggestion that Alex go after him, considering how much shit he seemed to get himself into. 

"Uh, when did I say you blew up Gentek? I just said it went up in flames, you defensive fuckhead." At least some things never changed. She leaned against the observation table, watching as he continued to stare blankly at the floor. Probably just didn't want to look guilty, because he definitely blew up Gentek. "I was helping Alex. Poor guy had a total breakdown yesterday--whatever you guys did, it hurt him pretty badly. It took a lot of work to get him to talk to me." 

She paused, then scoffed, giving him an incredulous look. "'Fucking worrier?' Excuse me for giving a shit about you, asshole." She wondered why when he pulled this kind of shit all the time, but still. "Of course he's mad. This is the second time he's had to clean up an Outbreak from Elizabeth, and last time wasn't exactly pretty. I'd be pissed too."

"Good to know one of us cares still." He muttered, shuffling back so he wasn't perched on the edge as much after checking it was clear. Dana's voice was coming from his- left? It was hard to tell bc dropping 15 stories in less than half a minute fucked with his ears. But it definitely wasn't in front of him.

"Not like we could have predicted this- they seem to be random. Trying to influence events at all just seems to get me killed, so figuring out the pattern is going swimmingly." He bit out a bitter defense, folding his arms and flopping back onto the table, eyes closed. "Besides, even if we got infected with redlight we'd be at most coughing this evening. The outbreak doesnt affect us. What's the point even cleaning it up?"

Dana went rigid on the spot. 'One of us still cares.' She grit her teeth, digging her nails into her arms. That was a low blow, even for him. She would have loved to give him the benefit of the doubt, but what had he done to earn that? What a fucking dickhead. Of course he didn't fucking care. She knew it, she'd always known it. She was just a goddamn tool to him. She hardly listened to the rest of what he said, though she did so enough to bark out a harsh laugh. 

"Oh, yeah, you're totally right. I mean, why would I give a shit? As far as you know, I'm totally fucking alone. It's not like I have a..." 

Her eyes went wide. How could she forget? She fucking forgot. "...Shit, shit shit shit!" She didn't have time to deal with her brother being a whiny piece of fucking shit right now. The sound of shoes scuffling against the sleek floors echoed in the room, the sound of her phone being plucked from its charger as she frantically dialed a number. She pressed it to her ear, trying to catch her breath. "Pick up, pick up, please pick up..." 

The phone clicked, and Dana let out an audible sigh of relief. "Oh, thank fucking god..." The voice on the other side of the phone was muffled to anyone but Dana herself, though the sound of her fidgeting wasn't. "Yeah- yeah, I'm okay. I'm with my brother... it's a fucking mess, I know. Where are you? Are you okay? ...I should've called earlier. I'm so sorry, I- fuck... at least tell me Blackwatch isn't on your ass, right? ...Okay. Okay. If you're not in a Red Zone, it'll be alright. ... Yeah. We... We can meet up tomorrow. I love you too. Be safe." She hung up, tucking her phone in her pocket. Moments later, she groaned, dragging her hands down her face.

"Not like you have a-?" He lifted his head up, trying to look for her only to realise the issue and end up back on his back, glaring at the ceiling while she chattered. "Who's that you were calling? Didn't know you had friends."

She glanced back to him (still laying on the table like a fucking baby), scowling. "Not all of us are total shut-ins that'd rather shove our faces in viruses than talk to people, y'know. Yeah, I've got friends." Unlike some people. Despite her anger and hurt towards him, though, the thought of who she'd called was enough to make her expression soften. "Ezra. I've told you about them, though I guess that'd take reading my letters. They're..." She paused stiffly, fidgeting with the zippers of her hoodie. She'd had enough ridiculing from him today. "We're, uh, friends. They live in Manhattan, so I was checking on them."

It took a moment for the wording to click, and he grinned. "I don't touch my mail most of the time. Probably missed it. But, you know... Only calling one friend? They must be pretty special to you."

It wasn't something she was ashamed of, so to speak--but the taunt still had her face reddening, and she was quick to flip him both fingers. Sure, his eyes were closed, but still. (She literally ended the call with 'I love you.' Wow, he was slow.) "Oh, fuck off. We're good friends. That better?"

"Just good friends?" He chuckled, folding an arm over his eyes. How long could he keep this up? He didn't want to move but he was practically dying from lying so still. "Right- and I'm just a guy who likes biology. My little sis grew up and got herself a partner."

She stuck her tongue out, but despite everything, the lighthearted teasing had managed to better her mood. That, or just thinking about said partner did. "Okay, okay, asshole. You got me. Their name's Ezra, like I said--we met a year ago." A small smile settled on her face. "They're a total sweetheart. Super passionate and friendly--environmental science major. They're also why I haven't unpacked all my shit back at my apartment, though. I just crash at their place." 

"What about you?" It was a pretty pointless question, but damn, she wasn't going to be the only one getting shit. "Excluding your ex. Anyone you can tolerate out there?"

"How did you know about- ugh. Time traveller. Right." He groaned. "I'd almost forgot the bitch existed honestly with all the things going on. I gotta give a hard pass on that though. Catching feelings? Can't relate." Well... Almost. He was patient- it wouldn't last. Probably. Hopefully.

He sat up abruptly, bringing his knees to his chest so he could curl up on top of the table and just avoid looking at anything. Hoodie's were good for hiding your face- he'd known that since he was a kid. It came in handy much too often. "What time is it?"

"That bad, huh? Christ." She shook her head a little. "I never actually met her--just found her name in your laptop when I was helping Alex. He seemed to think pretty highly of her." It wasn't like she knew all the details, though. She raised both brows as he suddenly sat up, though the gesture was haardly as nerve wracking as it would have been if Alex did it. From Doc, it was pretty normal.

"Two o'clock, give or take. I seriously doubt that you have work today, though." She shrugged. "Alex works really quick, but not that quick." 

Or, at least, he shouldn't have been that quick. The door swung open seconds after she finished speaking, and sure enough, there was Alex--with a much larger, much more irritated man strapped to his chest and swearing up a storm. 

"Alex, I swear to fucking god, I will throw your ass in the Hudson myself if you don't--" There was a loud, heavy clunk of metal as Alex promptly dropped Cross on the floor, much to the captain's irritation. He sat up, kicking the virus's legs; Alex didn't even twitch. "That's not what I fucking meant."

Alex, for his part, was doing a damn good job ignoring Cross. He looked to Dana instead, nodding down at the soldier. "He's stayin' here with you two."

Besides flinching, he didn't move to look at them or really do anything. He was not breaking the position he'd assumed for awhile- probably. He couldn't read the future. But he also couldn't respond normally when he was like this without even the strange senses of the virus form to guide him. Just his own shitty hands and ears. Which just lead to him freezing up when Cross was dumped arm side first onto the cold tile. 

"I thought you two were going to kill Greene together." He said dryly. "Runner Killers of a feather murder together- isn't that how it goes? The fuck did you two get into a catfight over?"

Dana put some distance between herself and the soldier on the floor, watching him warily--but, for the time being, silently. All she wanted to do was kick him in the crotch for being Blackwatch, after all, and Alex probably wouldn't like that much. Cross was back on his feet soon enough, though, adjusting the prosthetic and glaring at his impromptu taxi.

"I thought so too. The second I brought up Hunters, though, he lost his fucking shit. What the hell do you think I was fighting while you two were gone? Puppies?"

"You don't get it." Alex snapped, flashing his teeth. "I'm not-" He cut himself off, dragging his foot against the ground in frustration, "You're stayin' here, and that's what's happenin'. You're not gonna change my mind."

"Killing Runners is literally what I do, you fucking guard dog. Not everyone needs to be a time travelling virus to handle a goddamn Outbreak. The Wisemen are already set up, and I know where she is, so--"

"No!" The virus snarled, pushing past his sister to get right in the soldier's face. "I said no, Cross. It's gotta be me. She'll tear you apart."

"Fuck, Alex!" Dana called out, grabbing him by the arm to try and get him out of Cross's face. "He's Blackwatch! He's literally trained to do this shit, remember-?!"

Alex yanked his arm away, spikes running down the length of his spine. "I am not taking anyone with me. I don't care who's capable and who's not. That's IT."

Carefully, he moved off the table and closer to Alex, until he was so close he could hear the tendrils beneath the jacket (that made up the jacket?) squirming and the familiar shink of spikes. He reached out, grabbing the other arm closely and holding it up. Cross was- behind him? He wasnt stood on him at least.

"So because you don't want a soldier who is trained to die to get hurt, your going to go off all on your own and get hurt yourself?" He snapped, leering at Alex. "Stop fucking disrespecting him. He wants to do this- he knows how to do this- being selfish and freaking out about possibly getting hurt helps no one! Just go and fucking kill together, is that so fucking hard? He's a grown ass man and he doesn't need the mama bear treatment!"

He let the arm drop, backing up carefully back to the table where he'd been perched before and gripping it tight, breathing heavily. He coughed after getting a lungful of Alex's air. He needed to find some virus safe deoderant or something- the guy was a walking pile of rotten meat! At least it made it easy to find him.

It was a good thing Mercer backed away. From the perspectives of both Dana and Cross, the way Alex bared his too-sharp teeth displayed that he was mere seconds from biting the man's head off--literally--on account of the unwanted physical contact. Still, the virus' whole body writhed unpleasant, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest the only thing keeping him steady. The cough that followed only aggravated him further, enough so that Dana was frantically getting between the two of them.

"He's right, Alex. As much as it sucks. Besides, neither of us--" A gesture between her and Mercer, "know enough about Cross as a person to be even remotely okay with being stuck with him. It's either you take him with you, or he stays here and I kick him in the dick." Cross snorted at that, but it hardly seemed to remedy Alex's mood. She continued. "Forget what Doc said. I'm asking you to take this fuckhead with you so I don't lose my mind. We don't even know if we can trust him. He's still Blackwatch, what if he calls his team on us or some shit, y'know?"

It wasn't that different from what Mercer had said, really. But coming from her, it did the trick. Alex sunk into his various collars, mumbling something unintelligible as he prodded the ground with his foot. The captain himself had settled for sighing, drumming his fingers against his leg as he waited for them to get moving.

He waited several moments for something to happen, trying not to move at all- but despite the intervention of Dana nothing was happening. He could tell where Cross was by the tapping- and Dana was so close he could touch her Jacket if he moved his arm even a little. Personal space apparently wasn't a thing anymore, going by the fact they were all squeezed in to what felt like the size of a damn office cubicle. 

"Well?" He snapped, "Thought you were in a rush."

The only reason Alex hadn't moved was because he was trying to calm down. Anger and fear were a very bad combo from him, a fact he knew better than anyone else. But the second Mercer spoke, sharp voice cutting through the air, he could feel whatever was keeping him stable right now shatter like bone between teeth. The only indication of what had been done was a sharp inhale through his teeth, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

With a blur of black and red and the sharp crackling of the linoleum from the force of his steps, he was gone. Cross reacted first, pushing past Dana so he could follow the tantruming virus. But the doors wouldn't budge. He tried again, pushing a good deal of his weight against it--but what little he managed to get them to budge was soon forced back. From beneath the frame, sleek black tendrils crawled across the front of the double doors' it coated them in a thick layer of webbing, oozing an oily black substance that would deter even the bravest of people from voluntairily touching it.

"Fucker locked us in," Cross grit his teeth, and the harsh whisper soon shifted to a loud bark. "Open this goddamn door, Alex!"

"He's probably already gone, dumbass." Dana sighed, biting her lip. "He's a Mercer--more stubborn than a damn mule. So we're stuck."

"What the fuck was that about?" He hissed, standing up from the table and trying to figure out what had just happened. It was a fruitless endeavour, and he'd lost the loose map he'd got of everyone from how much they'd moved. "Did he seriously just throw a temper tantrum and lock us in here?"

The answer didn't matter to him, and he groaned, dragging his hands over his face, resting them over his eyes and digging his fingers into his scalp, thoroughly irritated. "Is there another door?"

"No, he just solved his problems in a very reasonable and non-excessive way." Cross sarcastically noted, rolling his eyes despite himself. He stayed by the door, though, unsheathing his combat knife and skimming the doorway for a good place to start sawing through. There wasn't a good spot, though. If he tried, everything he cut through regenerated to twice its original density. A classic Hive. Which meant the duo of non-Runners were essentially fucked. They'd be surrounded in pure virus in a matter of hours.

Dana crossed her arms, but her brother's questioning while covering his eyes was more than enough to earn him an incredulous look. "You're not that blind without your glasses. Look around."

"He can't." 

She frowned, looking to the captain crouched in front of the door. "I- what the fuck are you talking about?"

He glanced over his shoulder, deadpan. "He literally can't look around. You're your brother's sister; you noticed how unfocused his eyes have been, I'm sure. It's not subtle." He shrugged. "Mercer's completely blind. It's how the universe decided to fuck with him today."

"Unfortunately, he's right." Mercer grumbled, removing his hands from his face, turning to the direction of Dana. No matter how hard he tried to focus his eyes, nothing came into view from the blurred to shit dark mess his vision had turned into. It was easier to just let the useless orbs stay relaxed- less of a headache at least. "Can't even see my own hands."

"Seems like you must have had it pretty normal so far, then?" He leaned on the table, already tired of the amount of care he had to take to try not to fall over. "We've got the blind scientist, the amputee Runner- and the normal gal? What a crew. We'lll break out of here in no time- not."

Sure enough, her brother's gaze was just as aimless as Cross had promised. "Jesus," Dana muttered, running a hand through her hair. "As if this whole thing couldn't get more fucked up. I mean, at least you're still human this time, right? We definitely don't need a repeat of that." She glanced back to Cross, half expecting him to pry; the fact he didn't was more concerning than not, though. Save for the slight narrow of his eyes, though, he didn't seemed to phased by the jabs thrown his way. (To Dana's credit, though, she had no idea what 'Runner' was supposed to mean. Just a weird Blackwatch term.)

"And the amputee has one of the highest grade prosthetics in this country, with the added physical prowess that comes from being a Runner." Cross stood, though, tossing his virus-coated knife on the ground rather than sheathing it again. "However, we're best off waiting. He won't be able to track Greene through the city, not like I can. He'll be back within the hour." If he was intelligent, anyway. And that was a very high expectation. Cross kept his distance from the siblings, lingering by the coated doorway and skimming the room. "All other doors are going to be as sealed as this one. He's not precise, but he's thorough. Leaves us all the time for some lovely ice breaking." It was entirely snark, of course.

"Yep." Dana opted to take a seat against Mercer's observation table, propping her arms up on her knees. "So? Now what?"

"Good for you- you're fit as a fiddle and ready to play." He hopped back onto the table, finding to be an island of safety amidst the unknown room. He swung his legs as he spoke, trying to look at Cross. Maybe it'd unsettle him, the vacant stare. Hopefully.

"Of course- that'll be so helpful for waiting out Alex's temper tantrum in an icy box. Unless we're all going to play like this isn't happening and do truth and dare or some such nonsense- there is nothing I can think of to do. Morgues don't typically keep food on hand, nor movies or beds I should imagine."

The effort to unsettle Crosswas counterproductive. In fact, he tried to meet Mercer's blank gaze, raising a single brow. He was the one who'd been boasting about the captain's skills mere moments ago. What, exactly, did he plan to get out of a blind staring contest? He would have been more successful staring down a brick wall. He shifted his arms to rest behind his back, straightening his posture. 

"Icy? Please. I'm sweating my ass off." Granted, he was also in full armor, and generally the type to run warm. He started to pace a small path in front of the door, already getting fidgety, but his attention remained on Mercer. "Now would be a good opportunity to test the death theory. You can kill anyone with anything if you try hard enou--"

"Truth or dare sounds great, actually." Dana quickly interjected, far from interested in the rest of that statement. Between murdering each other or prying into the two men currently staring each other down? She had an obvious bias. She couldn't help but smirk, leaning against the wall. "Basic rules. No dares that'll get someone killed. If we say truth, it needs to be the truth. I'll even let one of you two go first." 

"No homicide? Highly disappointing. I prefer Russian Roulette."

He hid the strange laugh he'd made at Dana shooting down Cross, turning it into a small cough and adjusting his position on the table. Hopefully it hadn't been noticed. 

"I mean- murder sounds more interesting by far but if you insist that we're doing this..." He hummed, drumming his fingers like Cross had. Shit- what did he want to know? Or to have happen. "Cross- you go first. You're tallest."

"Yeah, no it doesn't." The journalist remarked simply, shaking her head. Still, both her and Cross blinked a little in surprise as Mercer suddenly redirected the questioning. The chance to torment her or some poor bastard, and he wasn't even going to take it? Damn. "Well, no shit he's the tallest. He's a fucking giant."

"And you two are a couple of microbes." Dana shot him a glare, but he was hardly phased. Instead, he sighed--a sigh that slowly shifted into a vague smirk as he realized just how much power he held right now. "Alright. Since this was your idea," a small motion to Dana, "I dare you to drop and give me twenty."

"Push-ups? You're shitting me. Do I look like I can do twenty fucking push-ups?" 

"Nope." Cross's smirk widened to a shit-eating grin. "I'll give you points for effort." 

"Oh, you are getting SO much fucking shit when it's my turn..." But she begrudingly relented, moving from her comfortable spot against the observation table to a stiff push-up position. Cross's attention flicked to Mercer on the table, and he tilted his head.

"Mercer. I dare you to do twenty sit-ups." 

"That's not how this fucking game works." Dana snapped from the ground, stopping her abrupt exercise routine long enough to flip Cross off.

"Bitch if I do twenty sit ups my ribcage is going to shatter!" He smirked. "Good thing I don't have to. The standard rules are that its one question per player. And you already used yours!" The smirk was a full out grin and he was rubbing his hands together, unreasonably pleased with the deduction. 

"Truth! How much sleep did you get in the last week before we dragged you into this mess? You always look tired as shit."

"Damn. Your ribcage is dead when it's my turn again, motherfucker." Cross didn't seem even slightly deterred by the question, matching Mercer's grin and snorting at his chosen question. "Mm. Let me think. Seven days in a week, twenty four hours in a day. So that would be... between 21 and 28. Give or take a few hours. I'm not a sleeper." His gaze flicked to Dana, who had decided to lay on the floor rather than continuing her push-ups after the fifth one. "I don't remember saying you could take a break."

"You said twenty push-ups! You didn't say twenty consecutive push-ups. I'll owe you a debt, but it's fucking worth it." She stuck her tongue out, earning her a lighthearted scoff from the captain. She rolled over, facing her brother instead. "Alright, your turn, Doc. Truth. What's the most embarassing thing that's ever happened to you at work?"

"Oh, that's just cruel."

Dana snorted. "You didn't ask him, so I get to ask him."

He grimaced. "You know- I try to forget the weird shit that happens there. One time I came in too out of it and nearly drank Hydrogen Chloride- does that count? There's also the time I microwaved Redlight but that went well-" He chuckled. "-horrified everyone else though, McMullen was ready to make me into a wallhanger."

He moved on the table so he was laid sideways on it, belly down and listening for Cross with his face buried in his arms. "Your turn Cyborg- make it a fucking decent question though. Excercise is boring as fuck when you can be creative. I believe in you, bitch."

"You nearly drank--oh my god." Dana sputtered out, shaking her head in utter disbelief. How her brother lasted as long as he did was totally beyond her. "I was thinking accidentally taking the wrong lunch or something, not that. Wow." ...What even happened when you put Redlight in a microwave? She was half tempted to ask Alex when he got back. That was a weirdly specific thing to do. She looked to Cross as her brother spoke, waiting for him to snap back with an insult of his own--he seemed like that kind of guy.

He didn't. The grin had faded, but not from anger; he looked confused if anything, something she'd learned to recognize easily with so much time around Alex. She cleared her throat softly, and he shook his head to clear it, straightening his posture yet again. (It wasn't necessary, he was already more rigid than a wooden plank.)

"I'll keep the pattern. Dana again, truth--as much as I want to do dare. Ever broken the law?"

"If you want to know about my murder streak, it doesn't exist. But sure, I have." She rested her chin in one of her hands. "Jaywalking." Among other things.

"You seem like the sort of person to hack the Octagon, but ok. Lil Jaywalkin' Mercer- such a criminal. " He snorted. "Microwaving it got the basis for Blacklight's current structure- or at least, current to the sample I was working on before Alex time travelled. Still getting used to the whole sentient puddle deal. Nuking things is pretty effective for mutations when they're hyperadaptive."

"You didn't want to ask me a question monsieur le Cyborg? I'm almost offended! Dana- you gonna use your turn? This is a pretty good time burner."

"He asked if I'd broken a law, not my whole criminal record. I would totally hack the Octagon. Jaywalking is one crime." She laughed, making it debatable whether the phrase was earnest or joking. The explanation of the microwave thing... shouldn't have been as funny as it was, but she found her laughter picking right up again, a hand over ehr mouth. "You're telling me Alex was born from a microwave? Holy shit. You know those one-year later pics? Where you have a cat or something, and then you take a picture of them, then take another a year later? We should do that. Have Alex stick his head in a microwave. It won't stay anyway, because of the loop shit, but god it'd be funny."

Again, Cross didn't react to the cyborg comment--or Mercer's words at all. He merely glanced between the siblings, stiffly rolling his shoulders every now and then. It gave Dana an idea. She tilted her head, smirking up at him. "So, Cap. Truth. What makes my brother so different?"

If Cross had been drinking something, he probably would have spat it out. Instead, he ended up choking on his spit, having to take a moment to cough into his elbow. "What the fuck are you talking about-?"

She grinned. "I mean the fact he's insulted you three times, and you haven't even flinched. Or responded, even. You seem like the kinda guy who'd bite right back with that kind of shit."

"...Right." Cross sighed, taking a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose, though his gaze remained set on her. "I'd be more than happy to return the favor. I just didn't realize he was insulting me."

"Uh, yeah. I'd say 'monsieur le Cyborg' counts as an insult."

He propped his head up on his arms just enough to glare at Cross. "Are you telling me you didn't hear a word of what I've been saying? Or are you just a socially oblivious idiot who can't pick up on obvious mockery? Because I have to say, I didn't peg you for the latter. Unless you're genuinely ignoring the insults for some reason...? In which case- I'm flattered."

On one hand, he was actually responding to Mercer's chatter now. On the other, it was to scoff, the last comment enough to bring a smirk to his face again. "In your dreams, maybe, Plague Doctor." He seemed to catch himself, though--and with a short clear of his throat, he was back to a more stoic disposition, gaze flicking between both siblings. "I fucking wish it was just social incompetence, or voluntary. It's not. You can do process of elimination."

Dana's expression softened a fraction, concern settling before anything else. "Shit. You're deaf? Why the fuck didn't you say anything?"

"Not deaf. It's a combat injury." He corrected a little too sternly. "And it's not normally an issue. I was supposed to be in combat today, though. Which means I wasn't prepared to converse." A pause. "That was your question. Mercer, your turn. Pry at your sister."

"I don't think I will." He matched the smile Cross had snuffed out with his own, broadened by the enjoyment of teasing him. This was infinitely more enjoyable than the occasional conversation with Interns. This was... Almost fun. Weird. "How about you expand on yourself a little? Surely you've got some little identity secrets stashed away."

"Identity secrets? What am I, a fucking superhero?" Granted, the sudden focus on him was understandable. Dana and Mercer were siblings, and Cross was the outsider who thought truth or dare was a good idea for some reason. Still, he didn't like it. He bit the inside of his cheek, stiffly pondering it for a moment. He didn't have to be too specific. "Fine. Maybe it'll bore the two of you to death. My full name is Robert Micah Cross. I was born in Silverton, Oregon. I'm 6'8", my weight's none of your business. I joined Blackwatch in 1998, and by 2003, I had my own team and one of the highest ranks in the force. Now I'm here."

"Wait, wait. Hold up." Dana pushed herself off the floor, raising a brow. "Your name is Bob?"

"Robert."

"Oh my fucking god, your name is Bob. Bob Cross." She let out a small cackle, casting him a devious looking smirk. "Who the fuck names their kid Bob?"

The captain grunted slightly, glancing away from the siblings entirely. His voice had an odd tone to it, difficult to read. "It has a nice ring to it, when it's not being butchered."

"You picked it!" He was almost slack jawed from surprise. "You picked your own name, didn't you!"

In a rather uncharacteristic way, Cross' face reddened; still, he sighed through his teeth to try and defuse things. "Yes. Will you get off my ass about it? It's not that surprising. People change their names all the time."

He shook his head, uncharacteristically excited. "Three people in one room with name changes? Seems pretty odd, doesn't it? The chances are something like 1 in 100- per person! This is amazing!"

The excitement, however unusual, seemed to let something actually click with Cross. He raised both brows, glancing between them. Dana merely smirked, tilting her head towards her impossibly ecstatic brother with a small nod. He relaxed almost immediately, despite the way he side-eyed them both. It was joking by all means. 

"You could have said that first. I almost had a fucking heart attack." 

"Oh, come on, you're not that old." Dana teased, leaning back against the table. Still glancing between Cross and her brother, something slightly devious settling on her face. "Doc's right, though. It's pretty fucking cool."

"I wish I could have seen your face." He grumbled, "Glad you got it though- if you were just some normal guy who changed his name... That wouldn't have gone so well." He shifted again- the metal table was cold but it was safe and he liked it. "I wonder what else we have in common? Statistically, it's rare to occur in isolation after all."

"Considering that- sorry about earlier." It was muttered quickly, hoping the lip reading would cover it from Dana hearing. He didn't say this sort of shit to anyone. "I wasn't lying when I said I insult everyone- but even I have standards."

"It was great." Dana promptly informed him, ignoring the steadily sharpening look she was getting from Cross. He probably wouldn't do anything. Probably. "His whole face was red, and he was mumbling like Alex does. Then again, I think he got red when I asked about you." 

"Except for the fact I already established that I'm hot as hell, which would generally make me red and sweaty. As much as I hate to burst your bubble." He could breathe much easier now. It was surprising, really; one would think sharing major parts of his life would have set him on edge. Maybe he was getting too soft on the Mercers, all three of them. He merely nodded at the apology--only to remember Mercer was blind right now. Thankfully. "It's fine. As for what else we have in common, I can assume not much. No reason to push our luck on that. Alex should be back before long, anyway."

"Of course I know you're hot-" he waved a hand dismissively. "I've seen your uniform before. Your packed into like five layers - it's ridiculous really. Considering the fact it was described as sudden onset and the fact we're in a freezing cold room?" He nodded to Dana, Grateful for the description. "You got flustered, just as I suspected." 

"How long has it been since he ran off? Hell need to get there, get to Greene, fight, and then get back here possibly wounded. He could still be walking."

"I did not get flustered." It was pointless for him to assert, but when it came to fighting for his reputation against the warmth in his face, he wasn't going to back down. He would have looked away entirely if he wasn't relying on lip reading. The smug look from Dana hardly helped, and he jumped on the chance to change the subject.

"I told you. He won't be able to find her without me in tow. Runners aren't stupid, even if they're batshit... usually. Not all of them are, I suppose." It was making him hyperaware of the size of this room, though. There wasn't much space to maneuver. It wasn't as bad as being off the job was, but he still found himself frowning and pacing. "According to him, he's killed Greene before. In the future, allegedly."

"I wouldn't underestimate him." Doc replied, trying to follow where Cross was. The clicking of boots against floor was started to get irritating, but it helped the guy- or so he could assume. "He's a sentient superweapon. I'm sure he can do some basic tracking- not to mention the fact that Greene will likely respond differently to him due to him being a virus- I have some confidence in him."

He moved so he was sat on the table again, legs dangling off it. Trying to show his face to Cross was hard when laying down, so he had to leave behind the comfortable position reluctantly. "Even though it would preferable to have you with him, Dana's vouching for his skill also. Surely you'll know when he comes into contact with Greene? Given your link."

"It's not his physical capabilities I'm worried about--it's his intelligence. He has as much impulse control as a toddler alone in a candy shop." The point about him probably being able to find her was a good one, though--but it left other issues. She wasn't just any Runner, she was the first. Not even Cross knew what she was capable of, compared to the Two Bluff Runner. "There's only so much good being a weapon of mass destruction can do if you don't have a fucking brain."

"Talking from experience there?" Dana quipped, huffing at them both. "Look, he knows what he's doing. Hell, he literally couldn't be more in his element right now. He didn't tell me much about what he did outside, but he was definitely a huge fucking issue for Blackwatch." Cross stopped pacing, casting her a pointed look.

"That's a bad thing, not a good one. Blackwatch is cleaning up this fucking mess. If he's trying to fight us and the infection, then--" He abruptly barked out a swear, suddenly losing his balance and crashing against the nearest table. He gripped his head in his hands, digging his fingers into his scalp, but it hardly seemed to remedy anything. 

"Jesus-!" Dana was by his side in seconds; Cross only groaned and pulled away. She looked back to her blind brother, eye wide with panic. "Fuck--he just hit the ground, Doc-!"

"The fuck do you want me to to do?" He barked, startled, but got up anyway, using the wall to navigate carefully to the crash site, slumping by Cross' side where he could hear him groaning, clearly unwell. 

"Make sure hes breathing normally, check his eyes arent fucking weird, check the pulse on the neck and the arm- recovery position? What the fuck do you do with a passed out super soldier who weighs like 500 lbs and is half steel!" He put his head in his hands, cursing. "This is probably some fucking virus shit- is hivemind overload a thing? Fucking hell!"

"I don't fucking know! You're the fucking scientist! Shit!" She followed as her brother guided, listening for the soldier's breathing before fumbling with his sleeve and glove to check his pulse. "Okay, uh- he's breathing, pretty rapidly but he's breathing. I- I don't think he's unconscious, just--fucked up. Really, REALLY fucked up. He's super pale." 

A fact that was only emphasized by the fact Cross didn't fight her, not even as she tugged him the rest of the ground. Christ, he was heavy. She would have checked his eyes, but his hands had yet to leave his head. "Goddammit--we can't even get a goddamn doctor, Alex sealed us off. Shit. Hang in there, you stubborn son of a bitch!" She started pulling Cross onto his side, but every grit-teeth swear seemed directed at someone beyond the hospital room. 

A heavy crash resounded outside. It would have been relieving, maybe--if not for the all too familiar growls and snarls that accompanied it, the paadding of massive paws against the concrete. Dana could have sworn she felt her heart stop, all the color draining from her face. She would have recognized them anywhere.

"Hunters." She all but whispered, the dread in her voice almost tangible. Then she was on her feet, grabbing some of the medical tools Cross had knocked to the ground. She gripped them so tight her knuckles went white, and she shook like a leaf--but she had to do something. Anything. "Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck," she hissed, swallowing hard. "Come on, come at me. Come fucking at me you- you ugly ass fucking mutts! Eat shit!"

"Fucking hunters?" He hissed, stumbling to his feet and looking around wildly, trying to hear where they were better. They were scrabbling at the emergency exit if he had to guess, rubble being tossed far behind them. 

An idea bloomed in his mind, small and unrealistic- but it was worth a shot. They'd die either way if it failed. "Dana- stop! We can't beat them. Listen to them, they're as strong as Alex! But you know what we can do?" He gestured to the still downed man. "Wake up the fucking runner."

With that in mind, he dropped to the ground again, prying Cross' hands away from his face and turning it to him, grateful the guy had been too heavy to get onto his side. "Wake up, bitch. You've got pets outside- reckon you could tell em to piss off for us? You're kind of the only thing standing between us and being hunter chow!" The tossing of rubble noise had faded, shifting to a mad scrabble against metal. He grit his teeth. "Please!"

Small streams of blood streaked down Cross's face from the way he'd dug his fingers into his scalp, but it was ultimately the sensation of hands against his face that had him blinking back to rough awareness. Rough by all means, considering the fact his head still throbbed and most noise was nothing but a sharp ringing in his ears. The physical contact was almost surreal. He fumbled for a moment, trying to his words through his teeth.

"...Mer--"

There was a loud crash of metal. Dana screamed, firmly standing her ground but shaking like a leaf as the massive Redlight beasts stepped into the room. Luckily, that was all it took for Cross. He was back on his feet in an instant, still hissing in pain, but the sound was soon concealed by that of his taser lighting up. The Hunter lost interest in Dana, rearing its massive head towards the soldier and tilting it.

"Both of you, stay back!" Cross ordered, though he hardly needed to say it; particularly as it only worsened his headache. The Hunter continued to stare him down, sniffing the air between them and taking a step forward. It staggered back as he swung the baton, letting out a confused gurgle.

Mercer, for his part, was not enjoying the situation at all. He pressed himself back against the wall, wishing for what felt like the hundredth time that he could see what the hell was going on. 

"Cross! You're a runner, aren't you?" He barked from the sidelines. "Talk to them! You can get their guard down to kill them easily or make them guard us!" A pause, interupted by a cough. (How long had it been since he woke up again?) "Might be easier than killing them with a giant sparkler, but what do I know!"

The vague, muffled sound that was Mercer's voice had him glancing back to Mercer, just in time to catch his words and grimace."Do you have to fucking announce that every goddamn time-?!" Cross snapped right back, but it lacked his usual bite--his focus was elsewhere. "'Oh, this guy's a Runner and he's known that for a fucking day, let's just tell the whole fucking world!' Christ, Mercer." He jabbed the taser at the Hunter without looking, though he could catch it scrambling back in the corner of his eye. The taser was dangerous, but it'd take time to kill a Hunter with it alone--the scientist was right. Which meant he had to do something he really, really didn't want to do. As if the pain in his head wasn't enough.

"If you ever bring this up, I will see to it that you spend an entire loop six feet under. Alive." The captain sighed through his teeth. He deactivated the taser, tucking it away in its holster so he could face the Hunters directly. They stared him down, quiet but expectant. They had been human before. Maybe soldiers, ones who would know how to listen. He raised his organic hand, locking eyes with the beast. 

"Stand down." The frontmost Hunter tilted its head. He resisted the urge to drag a hand down his face. "I said stand down. I know you're not fucking deaf." The fleshy beast considered the command for a moment, before it finally obliged, taking a seat on the remains of the emergency door. "Not--fucker. Fine. Close enough."

"It is kind of an important part of you." He muttered, folding his arms. "If I was some kind of infected, it'd be important to let the group know. Got to get someone ready for the autopsy, afterall." He went quiet for a moment, holding back another cough. Even if he did die, not like it'd affect anyone else. He could handle a day of this. "So yeah- maybe I do have to keep bringing it up."

The hunter had stopped moving, and Cross was acting... Exasperated? Not pleased or anything he might expect. "What did it do?"

Truth be told, Cross stopped listening the second Mercer insisted his condition was important to him. If it was major enough that everyone in the city of Manhattan needed to know about it, he wouldn't have learned about it himself from a time looping scientist with a too keen eye. Did Randall even know? Of course he didn't. He was a piece of shit, but he didn't take things like Runners lightly, unlike Mercer.

The Hunter continued to stare at him, and from behind, the rest of its pack stared as well. Waiting for him to ring the fucking dinner bell, probably. As curious as he'd always been about the mind of an infection, this was not how he wanted to learn.

Ultimately, it was Dana who answered the question, poking her head up from the other side of the observation table. "They're just... sitting there." She explained, frowning and fidgeting with the scalpel she'd grabbed before. "Jesus, that's a lot of Hunters."

"That's... Good, right?" He asked, leaning on the wall. If they weren't moving he felt safe enough to relax- although maybe that was the sudden fatigue talking. He felt kind of lightheaded- it would pass. Hopefully. At least he still had the wall. "Better than attacking us. Do you have any guesses why they came to you-?"

Cross turned just in time to catch the tail end of Mercer's chatter, rubbing his head with one hand and frowning. "I have a guess." He took a moment to make sure the Hunters weren't going to disobey his orders, then continued. "You've never see-...been in a proper Outbreak, so I don't know how much you get about the hierarchy. To put it simply, the infection works like an insect colony. The Runner is the mind, bound to every single person who gets the virus and driving them forward in whatever way they please. It's called a Hivemind for a reason. You take out the Runner, and the Infected are nothing but wild, mindless beasts. They can't function without a leader."

"Because of this leader role, Runners are extremely rare. Having multiple in the same place is literally unheard of--in the forty years the virus has been around, there's been two." A pause. "...Three. Greene was connected with me. When she realized she was going down, control of the Outbreak was moved to the next viable candidate, to continue in her footsteps." He stopped to rub his eyes. God, he was tired. "The Hunters likely wanted to track down and protect their... new leader. That, and her little stunt gave me a fucking migraine."

"Beautiful." He whispered, a smile lighting up his face as Cross spoke. The hivemind in action, explained from someone who actually functioned at the head of it without going to the presumed feral state of other Runners just yet- it was something which to him was as wonderful as a sunset or the patterns on a butterflies wings.

"This is wonderful! The chance to observe an infection from the leaders point of view-" His enamoured ramblings were forced to cease for a moment when a coughing fit overtook him, and he slumped down against the wall, feeling by the time it subsided rather like he'd managed to vomit up his lungs in the process. 

He continued with a much hoarser voice. "...Well, the actual infection isn't so pleasant. But mechanically? Its beautiful, Robert!" A small pause, coughing heavily into his hands, then quieter. "...Is there any water here?"

The other two in the room certainly didn't share Mercer's enthusiasm; Dana's attention was on the Hunters more than anything, and Cross listened with little more than a tight frown and curt nod. And then the scientist all but collapsed on a coughing fit. Cross started to step forward, concern flickering onto his stoic features for just a moment, only to abruptly stop and opt to maintain his distance. He hardly even responded to his first name, and that was saying something.

"Dana--" He started, but the woman was already on the job, grabbing the safest looking container she could find and starting to fill it up at the, sink. The tension in the air was almost tangible. After all, it wasn't like Mercer's condition was hard to guess.

"Well, there's something for you to do after this fucking loop ends." Cross noted with a shrug, but it did nothing to hide his mood. "Another round of truth or dare."

He took the offered water carefully, sipping it in quiet as Cross spoke. He was distracted- why were the symptoms showing so early? The human experiment records he'd found hadn't indicated infection could start showing severe symptoms in under a few hours. It was irritating. Not to mention his throat seemed like it was on fire by now. The disconnect between the records and his own experience was making him nervous. How much else was wrong? How much more was hidden?

"Not to beat a dead horse Cross, but you're safe." He tried to speak normally, but it just came out as a hoarse slurry yell- like Alex- so he settled for a sharp whisper. The words finally clicked into place, and he looked up. "...Why the fuck are we doing more truth or dare...? Did I miss somethin'- something?"

With how distinctly different the two talked--even with the same voice-- hearing Alex's usual tone come from Mercer was enough to have Dana and Cross sharing a glance. The captain sighed, taking a seat on where he was standing. The Hunters whimpered and pawed at the ground; picking up on his tension, if he had to guess. He drummed his fingers against his knee. Trying to figure out where to go from here.

"I was safe when I didn't have a Hivemind. Greene's infected are my infected. The Two Bluff Runner got as far as she did because the effects were subtle until she infected her first person. I could have hours or minutes before it gets to me. Much like you." Tired was a common state of mind for him, but the weariness in his tone was well beyond what normally came from him. "We're not playing truth or dare. It was a joke. If your symptoms are already this bad, you'll be dead within three hours." 

"That's it-? You're not going to try to help or anything?" Dana snapped, moving around the observation table to settle by her brother. Infected or not, she wasn't going to just stand there and watch him die. Not again. "There has to be something we can do. You're the fucking Runner! Or Alex--he killed Greene, right? So he knows shit about the virus that we don't!"

"Only way I can help him now is a mercy kill." He explained simply, brushing a hand over the holster of his handgun. Dana's expression, already tense, shifted to a furious and disgusted snarl. 

"If you even think about..."

"A joke, huh..." He chuckled darkly, but it was too quiet to really have the right effect. "He's right Dana. I know this virus like the back of my hand- at least in formerly healthy subjects. I improved it this far. If he hadn't found me... I'd be dying alone in my room." He looked to Dana, sightless eyes looking for her for a moment before he remembered and returned to sipping with a sigh. "Hey... How did I die? The first time."

"Yeah, you know it, so you should be able to... fuck, Al-...Doc." She ran a hand through her hair, every movement riddled with frustrated anxiety, but she didn't know enough about the virus to argue. She would just have to sit here. She didn't mind being on the sidelines, but times like these made her wish she had Alex's ability to tear through shit and get answers. A computer and hacking skills wouldn't do them any good. She sat as well, pulling her knees to her chest and staring down at the floor. 

The question, of course, was unexpected. Cross snapped back to attention, eyes narrowed to a glare. "Now really isn't the time for a trip down memory lane, is it?"

"It's- It's fine." Dana added, quiet and withdrawn. "I... I don't know the specifics. I thought Alex was you, until all of this shit started." She motioned to their current situation. "Um, from what I read, though... you released the virus, Blacklight. It was all over the news. That was the cover story, anyway. I'm pretty sure they just shot you." She started wringing her hands as sh spoke. "When Alex first came to me, he was... covered in blood. Bullet holes. If I had to guess, Blackwatch just shot the fucking shit out of you. Like they do."

"For a reason, probably." Cross pointed out, ignoring the sharp glare he got in response. "They wouldn't open fire on the head of a bioweapon project without some kind of motivation--the response of the rest of the team would be too dangerous to risk. He could have very well been carrying a viral sample."

Dana's expression darkened significantly. "Want some water with all those fucking boots you're licking right now? Your throat's gonna dry out."

He couldn't help it- he started laughing at the sheer viciousness of his sister's response, the friendly noise soon devolving into another attempt to hack up his own lungs, warm rust tasting fluid coming out with the exertion into his cupped hands. Blood? Once he'd settled back to the shallow breathing after a while he spoke.

"Thanks but Dana, you're killing me. Forgot how feral you were over the years somehow..." He grinned, wiping the blood onto his jacket (it should be peach coloured this one- it wouldn't hide it that well) "Cross- have you even seen your crew? Blackwatch guards in Gentek are always dispatching my team."

"The only reason I've not been killed-" his voice ran dry and he paused again to drink the water. "-is because I'm the only one who can do gene therapy for shit there. You gotta keep insurance." He laughed, holding the cup to his neck. It felt good- cold. "Insurance keeps you alive, right? It's good... I'd take some and run if I had to. Good like cold..."

The coughing fit only solidified the truth of the situation; Mercer was a dead man. At the very least, Dana thought, the fucker wouldn't stay dead. That didn't mean she had to like the death cycles, though. The initial panic, at least, had mostly subsided. At least on her part. Cross was still tapping like his life depended on it.

"Feral?" She blinked a bit, but couldn't help a weak laugh. "I mean... you're not wrong. I just don't take anybody's shit anymore."

"It's not her killing you. That's the virus." The captain corrected, a morbid comment well fitting for a Blackwatch unit. For the most part, though, he let the scientist ramble. He'd seen this state before, people delirious from fevers or alcohol. Or both. You could get anything out of them, really. 

... An idea flicked into his head. An asshole thing to do, by all means. But he'd been gently enough on too people today, and he was going to lose his mind anyways. Couldn't look like he was going soft or something. Particularly since he'd fucking embarrassed himself.

"You get insurance? Wow. I don't even get dental." The sudden shift in his tone didn't go unnoticed by Dana, who cast him a confused look. He smirked. "Now you've got me curious, though. How much do you know about Blackwatch? From the perspective of a Gentek scientist. I'm writing a novel called 'Fucking Blackwatch Bootlicker', " a pointed glance to Dana, "And I'd love to add some outside perspective."

"Are you seriously pulling this shit? He's literally dying."

"I'd ask him the same thing if he was sober. Relax."

"An autobiography, huh?" He was relaxed- much more so than usual- and it showed in the simple grin that made his face near unrecognisable from the usual taut frown.

"Well Blackwatch is full of bastards-" He jabbed a finger at Cross, nearly falling forwards with it before he moved back against the wall. "Bastards who kill and shoot and take all my fucking interns. There's a incinerator out back, you know? I've seen em doing it. They think they're so subtle." 

He chuckled, nearly slipping into another fit, but just ended up lying on the cool tile of the morgue. His voice was nearly a true whisper now. "Your group is full of fuckers who dont know shit. McMullen and Randall are all buddied up but don't tell the trigger happy guards the difference from a blood sample and redlight!" He turned his head. "It's the colour. Blood samples are more garnet dark warm- and redlights all fuckin... Bright, yeah?"

Cross' smug expression had become a tight frown, the tapping of metal fingers against his leg ceasing just long enough for him to glare. He started to voice a defense, but Dana cut him off.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. They've been experimenting on people and shit since Hope, Idaho. Elizabeth Greene? One hundred percent their doing. They hunted Alex down like a fucking dog, tracked me down and beat the shit out of me before trying to haul me off like a fucking convict. They killed people for fun, destroyed entire fucking blocks just because they could. I've seen it, so has Alex."

"That--"

"Hasn't happened? It's in the future? Trust me, they don't change a fucking bit. I was researching them, y'know. After they killed Doc over here for the first loop time. I know about it all. The fucking child soldiers, the corruption, the abuse, the initiation--"

"Alright, alright, I get it." Cross snapped, the smug aura entirely gone now. He pushed himself to his feet with a sigh through his teeth; he stepped away from the siblings, opting to pace the room instead.

Dana glanced down at her delirious brother. "I don't know what you see in him. He's kind of a dick."

"I don't know." He mumbled, waving a hand dismissively. "He's fun. Talks good. You're a dick too, I'm a dick- we're all dicks." For a moment he fell quiet again, then tried to push himself abruptly, seemingly panicked. "Wha- I see in him? Whad... What do you mean?"

"He's fun?" She repeated, trying to hold in a laugh. (She'd let him off the hook for calling her a dick. Just this once.) "And he 'talks good'. Oh my god. What does that even mean?"

Oh, she knew. Anyone with eyes could have guessed. But how her brother solidified with his slurred panic. She was trying to lighten the mood, rather than take advantage of him like Cross. This would definitely do the trick. She grinned.

"You've been making goo-goo eyes at each other since he got here, dude, and you can't even see. You've got it bad." She nearly gave him a playful nudge, but considering his condition, she decided against it. "I didn't think it was your thing."

"It's not my-" He sputtered, "Goo goo eyes? I don't do that!" He flopped back down, glaring at the ceiling now between the harsh twitches of his ribcage. Overexertion was getting easier and easier to reach. How much longer did he have?

"Look- I'll prove it. It's an... easy hypothething... Cross!" He called, waiting for the pacing to stop to continue. "Cross- I'm not doing anything weird. You got that? Nothin' weird."

"You so do that." She held a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing. She expected the denial, but holy shit. Then he started yelling at Cross, and Dana just about lost it, wheezing into her hands and trying not to make tooo much of a fool of her brother. The captain himself merely stared, at a total loss.

"...I wouldn't describe dying as weird, no." He stated simply, and Dana had to rest a hand on the ground to keep herself from collapsing with laughter. Cross ultimately decided he didn't want to find out what that was about, instead rubbing his head and moving over towards the Hunters in the doorway. He seemed distant, though Dana hardly considered it any different from his usual behavior. 

"Wow, that was super convincing." She commented, though she hardly got to say much else. Not when all the Hunters abruptly stood, snarls and growls echoing through the room as they picked up on something they clearly didn't like. Cross did little more than grumble something, wincing and rubbing his temples.

"Hell yeah it was. I'm... The best at convince..." He smirked tiredly- though it was barely there. He could barely move from the paralyzing ache of redlight destroying his cells with the frightening efficiency it had always demonstrated. But he wouldn't let his sister see that- so he kept up the energetic facade leaning into it like this was just a very bad, strange trip.

Distantly he could hear the hunters kicking up a fuss at the door, and he let his head loll towards the noise. "Hey, someone's at the door. Someone tell the puppies to shut up... We know already..."

"...Doc, I don't think you know what a puppy is." Dana stiffly pointed out, looking warily between Cross and the creatures prowling outside. The guy looked totally fucking out of it, running a hand through his hair and casting her a tired look and shrug. I've been doing this for less than ten minutes, don't look at me. Great.

Something landed just outside the door. Alex. About damn time, she was starting to worry. But the relief hardly lasted. Not when all the Hunters immediately jolted into combat stances, a sharp snarl from outside matching theirs before both parties lunged at each other.

The conflict was ferocious, but somehow- Alex was holding his own against the onslaught of teeth and claws from every angle, stabbing holes through and dragging fresh wounds down them with a frightening efficiency. Inevitably, one broke the guard and got close enough for Alex to bodily pick it up and chuck it away, leading to it crumbling into the wall with a harsh noise somewhere between a scream and a dying gurgle. 

The isolated hunter got up to its feet, heading back to the fight- only to pause, snuffling the ground until it was stood drooling over the scientist's body, watching with beady eyes as Mercer rattled out his last breaths, ribcage finally stilling. And then it lunged, one paw halfway through the torso and the other pinning the right wrist as it gnawed at the freshly dead arm hungrily, eyes flicking between its master and the invading virus as it ate.

Dana had started to move, but not quickly--it wasn't exactly easy to drag the limp, barely breathing form of her brother, particularly since the actual fucking soldier was too busy trying, and failing, to call the Hunters off of Alex, his efforts interrupted with sporadic migraines time and time again. With him focused on that, there was no one around to do anything about the Hunter that was soon right on top of her and Mercer.

She froze like a deer in headlights, her breath catching in her throat. She scrambled away, but it was at the expese of dropping Mercer's body, unintentionally leaving him for it to fucking eat. She wanted to be sick, terror and anger and disgust overwhelming her. She had to do something. Anything. It glanced away from her--she still had one of the scalpels in her pocket. 

"Get OFF HIM!" Dana screamed, swinging up the scalpel and plunging it into the creature's eye. It was a desperate act by all means--one that would cost her. Alex tore into the room, his head snapping to the Hunter; he couldn't see her past its massive frame. He dove toward it, the sheer force and weight of him enough to send it crashing to the ground.

There was the sudden and sickening crack. Nothing unusual. He forced the Hunter aside with a growl, ready to continue the fight, all bared teeth and wild eyes. But beneath it wasn't linoleum. Beneath it was blood. Bone. Flesh. Not the various jackets of Mercer, that was off to the side. A hoodie, a denim skirt, short messy hair and the smell of citrus perfume. 

Everything stopped.

Alex screamed.


End file.
